On a Tangent
by ProfessorPedant
Summary: After the end of the War, Harry left the wizarding world. Seven years later a double murder draws him back into the world of magic and its many troubles. Harry has to find and stop the murderers before another war breaks loose. Explores the fringes of the magical world, wizarding and vampire politics, and adult relationships. Paranormal mystery/romance. Not Epilogue compliant.
1. Chapter 1

**On a Tangent**

A Harry Potter FanFic  
by  
Professor Pedant

* * *

 **Forward**

After the end of the War, Harry left the wizarding world. Seven years later he visited a nightclub on the Fringe, home to outcasts who cannot live under the Ministry, but will not leave magic behind. A double murder involving a wizard and a vampire throws the Fringe in to chaos and draws Harry back into the world of the Ministry and its troubles. Harry partners with old friends and a new vampire lover to find and stop the murderers before all Hell breaks loose?

Paranormal mystery/romance. Explores the fringes of the magical world, wizarding and vampire politics, and adult relationships. Not Epilogue compliant.

I do not own Harry Potter or any of the characters or places in his stories.

* * *

 **Chapter One**

"I'm going to hate this place, aren't I?" moaned James. He had been born Harry James Potter, but ever since he left the wizarding world behind almost eight years before, he had gone by his middle name. He pretty much thought of himself as James. Harry Potter was a git that had gotten too many people killed. He was not someone that James wanted anywhere near his new girlfriend.

"Stop your whinging," chided Elspeth Townson. She was taller than James, though most people were, and slim with bone china skin and deep purple hair cut asymmetrically. Her lips were a crimson slash in her pale white face. Her black and grey pseudo-Victorian dress hugging her dancer's figure made up the rest of the very gothic picture. "You said if I tried your favorite Bulgogi restaurant, you'd come to my favorite club."

"Yeah, but Bulgogi's great."

"Are you saying my club'll be shit?" Elspeth wheeled to poke James in the chest. "You know what? You don't have to come. If you'd rather go down to the Fish and Firkin and play darts with the barristers and estate agents all bloody evening, you go right ahead. I'm meeting my friends. So go on, sod off."

"I don't even know any barristers," James said, grabbing her hand gently. "I didn't mean I wasn't coming. I just …" He didn't think telling her that he worried that most goths were pretentious, poseurs, or worse, head cases off their meds wold be a good thing for their relationship.

"What? You just what?"

"I just worry that I'm going to get laughed at. I don't exactly fit the image of the club." Harry gestured to himself. He was wearing black trousers and a black silk t-shirt, over which he had thrown a black trench coat. But his deeply tanned skin, from months spent under the Southern California sun, did not fit the aesthetic. His black hair was casually cut, short to help tame its natural unruliness. His famous lightning bolt scar had been removed with laser surgery, though the area still did not tan as well as the rest of his skin. None of his scars did. He had also had his eyes corrected with Lasik, so he no longer wore glasses.

"You look fine. You can't help it if you're actually a Hollywood Barbie doll."

"Please, at least tell me I'm Malibu Ken. I'd hate for us to have any gender confusion at this point in the relationship."

She smiled and slipped her arm in his. "Let's go, Ken."

James opted to take a taxi. It was a pleasant early October evening, but the club was too far to walk and James hated the Tube. It always made him feel too closed in, unless it was almost empty. Then it was a little spooky. From Elspeth's flat to the club took about twenty minutes in evening traffic. The wizard gazed out the window for much of the ride.

"Are you glad to be back?" Elspeth asked.

"It's been a while," James mused. "I never spent a lot of time in London. I'd occasionally come here during school holidays and I spent part of one year here my last year of school. But even then I never got out and about much. It's so different from New York or Los Angeles or Vancouver or ..."

"Why'd you come back?"

James reached for her hand. It felt warm and soft in his. "The movie I was working on came here to shoot some scenes and I came with it. Met you. Decided to stick around."

"For me?"

"Aren't you worth it?"

"Of course I am. I just didn't know you were that perceptive."

"I think it may be time to further my education," James smiled.

"Your ... education?"

"Yes, I wanted to look at some unis over here. Time to go back to school."

"Prat," Elspeth tugged James into a kiss. They whiled away the time until the taxi stopped in front of the night club, Tangents.

The club was large, dark and, even at an early hour, full of young men and women in unrelenting black. The only flashes of color were the various unnatural hues of hair and random lights. After James paid the cover, he and Elspeth entered through a long tunnel light by UV tubes. This opened into a crowded foyer. To the left was a long bar with a few high tables set nearby. To the right was a dark corridor leading to someplace labeled the Crypt. Directly ahead there were stairs leading up to the Aerie and down to the Pit. Loud music with a slow, pounding beat emanated from below. Glancing down the short stairway, James saw the Pit was a dance floor half full of writhing bodies.

"Let's go up," Elspeth half yelled in his ear. "Elliot said he'd meet us in the Aerie." She grabbed his arm and half dragged him up the dark stairway. The wizard slipped out of her clutches and motioned for her to precede him. He absently rubbed his bicep. Her grip was much stronger than her slim form would have suggested. James knew she had spent years studying dance and that she still had surprising strength. It also gave her legs to die for, which were well displayed in the black fishnets Harry was admiring as she climbed the stairs before him.

The Aerie was a comfortable nest with a small bar, sofas and settees placed to create comfortable conversation niches. The lighting was subdued, but more natural than that below. There was a railing overlooking the Pit, but the music was somewhat subdued, enough so that conversation was possible. It was half ten and the place was just beginning to fill. James expected that it would grow more crowded as they approached the witching hour.

"There he is!" Elspeth cried, pointing to a young man in, what else, black leather pants and waistcoat, with a black bowler perched on short cut black hair. James stopped as he sensed the aura the man projected. Since his last close call with the dementors after fourth year, Harry had found himself particularly sensitive to magical auras. It became more sensitive after his trip to the afterlife and the final battle. It was one of the reasons he had left the magical world behind. He had only experienced an aura like this man's a few times before. He flashed back to the Slug Club party he had taken Luna to his sixth year at Hogwarts. There had been a tall, pale man who radiated a similar deathly aura – Sanguini the vampire. James hand stole to the wand hidden up his left sleeve. He seldom used it, but still carried it. Especially in Britain, where he likely still had enemies willing to do him and his harm. He did not know of any vampires among that number, but he was not going to take any chances.

"Elliot, this is my new guy, James Potts," Elspeth introduced. "James, this is Elliot Pitney. He's a bloody brilliant artist. You have to see his paintings sometime. They're to die for."

"Not literally I hope," James said cautiously. He held his hand out to the artist. One touch would confirm his suspicions. Elliot seemed almost as reluctant to take James' hand as the wizard was to offer it. But shake they did and as they felt their magical aura intermingling, each was certain the other was more than human.

"We goths may be fascinated with death and its associated iconography, but that doesn't make us killers," the vampire replied, adding a layer of subtext to the conversation. "For the most part, we're pretty harmless."

James nodded and motioned for Elspeth to have a seat. "I'll go get drinks. A black and tan for the lady. What'll you have, Elliot?"

"Blood wine," the artist replied. "It's a specialty of the house." James nodded and left the table. As he walked to the bar he started looking more closely at the patrons of the club. He saw at least a dozen other people with pale skin and protruding canines. Two of them had auras identifying them as different from the others. He even noticed one young woman who, through the piercings and tattoos, bore a strong resemblance to the hags he had seen in Knockturn Alley, albeit younger. Her aura felt like rotten meat smelled. There was a young woman at the end of the bar beating out the rhythm of the dance music playing in the Pit, but instead of drumsticks she was using two wands. Definitely magical.

"I don't think we're in Kansas anymore," James muttered.

"Not even close," said the bartender as he appeared in front of the confused wizard. He was a tall, muscular man with a mesh shirt showing off well-inked skin. His head was shaved and he had metal spikes imbedded in his scalp. His aura was odd but unfamiliar. "First time here?"

"Yeah."

"You'll either get used to it or …" He smiled, showing a mouthful of teeth filed to points. Harry saw a twinkle in his eyes that reminded him of Dumbledore. He felt a subtle mental touch brush across the surface of his mind.

"Or I'll disappear, never to be seen again?"

"Nah. You'd just never come back, I'd imagine. Can't see why you'd come to a club you don't like. Place ain't for everyone." He held up a glass and asked, "What'll be?"

James gulped and willed himself not to go for his wand. "I'll have a black and tan, a pint of cider, and a blood wine."

"See, you're fitting in already. The wine for you, or?" he gestured to the table with Elspeth and Elliot.

"I've been out of the country for five years. Decent cider's hard to come by in the States."

"Welcome back. Have one on the house."

"Cheers!" James said as he took the three glasses. He had no idea if that fellow was a vampire, wizard, were, or something else entirely. Whatever he was, it was not a normal human. Still, a free drink was a free drink.

" … so Rachel basically told Gina to piss off …" Elliot stopped when James approached the table. The wizard carefully set his double handful of drinks down on the dark wood surface. I bit of the blood wine sloshed out of the glass and landed on James' finger. He curiously tasted the spilled drop. It was not blood. Instead it was wine, spiced with pepper and cinnamon, among others. It was warm and thick, almost syrupy. Elliot raised an eyebrow at James' action. The wizard shrugged slightly and seated himself. Elliot raised the glass. "Ta."

"Elliot was just telling me about Rachel, who's a student who sometimes comes around. Not really hardcore, but part of the scene. Anyway she was getting into it with my old flatmate, Gina. I think I've told you about her."

"Um," James prevaricated, "I think so. You didn't get along?" He sipped his cider. It was good; different from that which he found in the States, but he could never say just how. He winced as he watched Elspeth down half her pint in a single draught. Much more of that and he knew he would be pouring her into bed, which was not how he hoped the evening would end.

"Well Gina asked Rachel to move in and …" the young woman continued.

"As I was saying Rachel told her to get stuffed, in not so many words," Elliot jumped in trying to regain his place a primary storyteller. "I thought Gina was gonna slap her, but Finn stepped in and made sure everyone played nice. That must have been a week ago Thursday. I haven't seen Gina back in the club, but I hear Rachel should be here tonight."

"If I see Gina I might be tempted to …" Elspeth said as she took another deep drink.

"Hey, hey," James tried to calm her. "I thought you came here to have fun. Elliot, may I call you Elliot?"

"Of course. I hate being called Mr. Pitney."

"Elspeth tells me you're an accomplished artist."

"He's bloody brilliant." She enthused.

"Appropriate phrasing I imagine," James said under his breath. Elliot quirked one side of his mouth. "What sort of art do you create?"

"Are familiar with the Pre-Raphaelites?"

"No?"

"They were a group of painters in the mid to late nineteenth century. Terribly romantic and quite popular with certain groups over the century. Including my fellow goths. My art is a modernized version of their style."

"He paints such lovely ghosts and ghouls and vampires. His work is ever so popular. The color and composition are compelling. The symbolism and allusions set throughout are like a puzzle challenging the viewer to find the hidden meanings."

"I'd love to see some of your work sometime," James said. "The closest I ever come to painting is building and dressing sets."

"Theater or films?" Elliot inquired.

"James works mostly films. He's spent the last, what five, years in Hollywood."

"Something like that, though I've also worked in New York, Toronto, and Vancouver. But I got my start on a small film here in London some years ago. Mostly I work props and special effects. I have done a little stage work, but I think films offer more variety."

"We have a small stage here, on which we produce the occasional show." James turned. The speaker was a petite, young, platinum-blond with milky white skin and pale blue eyes surrounded with heavy black make-up. She wore a black satin bodice and skirt over a scarlet off the shoulder blouse with detached sleeves. A black lace choker bound her long neck. She was striking. "It's quite possible that the spectacle might be improved with the appropriate special effects. Perhaps we can interest you in working with us?"

"Finn!" Elspeth popped to her feet and embraced the blonde in a friendly hug.

"Ellie, it's good to see you too. But calm down girl, it's only been a week or two." Finn replied. "Elliot, glad you could join us this evening. Always happy to have you here. Who's your friend?"

"Hazel Finn, meet James Potts," Elspeth made the introduction. "Finn's the manager here."

"Nice to meet you," James replied and held out his hand. The porcelain doll offered hers in return. James could not detect anything unusual in her aura. She seemed to be completely normal. No trace of magic.

"I'm actually the assistant manager. Mr. Frome's the manager. First time here?"

"Indeed," James thought it odd that this was the second time in an hour an employee had asked him that. They do keep track of newcomers. "So far it's been an interesting experience. Tell me about these performances. I take it you don't mean bands playing or that sort of thing."

"No, several of our more theatrical patrons occasionally put on a masque or tableau. Sometimes they get pretty macabre. Imagine what added special effects might do." Finn gestured broadly when she spoke. It gave her the impression of size.

"I'm picturing blood spurting to the back row and guts flung all over the audience. Real Tom Savini stuff." James added. The discussion continued with each of the four adding stranger, funnier, and in many cases more gruesome ideas for special effects and theatrics.

Eventually Finn said, "As much fun as this is, I'm supposed to be working. Have a good evening, and I hope to see you again, Harry."

"James." Elspeth corrected.

"Right, sorry. Must have been thinking of someone else." She smiled and wandered off. James watched after her.

"I think it's time to get another round. Same all around?" James asked. Elspeth nodded.

Elliot demurred. "I'm still working on this one. I have a tendency to savor my libations and a single drink will last me some time." Elliot replied with a meaningful look. James just nodded and went off to the bar. A different bartender filled his order and James noticed the big bald fellow was standing near at the railing looking over the dance floor. He saw James looking at him and lifted his chin in the anti-nod men often used to acknowledge one another.

James and Elspeth stayed at Tangents until the early hours of the morning. Afterwards James saw his lady back to her flat. She was both exhausted and inebriated so the wizard undressed her, tucked the young lady into her bed, and kissed her gently goodnight. After gazing appreciatively at her fine form and shaking his head at the lost opportunity, he pulled his seldom used wand and cast an anti-hangover charm on her that the Seamus had taught him during his fourth year. Having seen to his main responsibility, James decided to indulge his curiosity. Another taxi took him back to the club. He had questions and hoped someone would provide answers.

Elliot had not moved from the comfortable chair in the Aerie by the time James returned. It was after 4 a.m. and the club was on its way to empty. The wizard seated himself next to the vampire. The bald bartender brought a pint for James who nodded his thanks. The two men sat silently for several minutes while each sipped their preferred libations. Finally James could not hold his question.

"So how many of the fanged folk here are really vampires? I saw at least three, including you."

"It's easy to hide in a crowd, and who'd believe in the unbelievable when the pretenders offer such a palatable alternate explanation." Elliot took a sip of his drink. Harry noted that the liquid seemed thicker, more viscous than the wine had been. "Who but someone already aware of the magical world, eh wizard?"

Harry raised his pint in a silent toast.

"Are you really Harry Potter?" the artist asked.

"I used to be," James said grimacing. "But it's been a long time. Now I'm just James."

"We all have secret faces." Elliot said solemnly.

James broke out laughing. "Really … secret faces? Come on, don't be a cliché."

Elliot smiled. "Yeah that was shite, but some of us are old enough that they talk like some character from _The Mysteries of Udolpho_."

"Not familiar with that one. How old are you, if that's not considered rude?"

Elliot looked at him for a moment. "It is, kind of. But I'll answer. I was born in 1891 so I'm about the same age as some of your old teachers at Hogwarts. Younger than some, even. That's considered pretty young by our standards."

"About this place?"

"Did you ever hear of the Fringe when you were at Hogwarts?"

Harry, the talk of Hogwarts threw him back into his original mental persona, thought back. He had continued to study occlumency, mostly through zen meditation and yoga. His memory was much better than most. "Maybe. It sounds familiar but I could be confusing it with Fringe Festivals."

"It's an unofficial name adopted by the people involved. Between the muggle world and the wizarding world there are a number of people that are aware of magic, may even be magical, but are not wholly part of either the wizarding or mundane worlds."

"Vampires?"

"Yes. I was born to a mundane family and only learned of the magical world when I turned. But there are many others."

"Werewolves? And squibs?"

"Yes, and the families of muggle-born wizards and witches, as well as many muggle-borns themselves if they choose to leave the wizarding world after their schooling." The bald bartender interrupted Elliot by placing another glass of what Harry suspected was blood on the table in front of the vampire. He set a full pint of cider in front of Harry and placed a third drink for himself down and sat in a third chair. Elliot nodded in thanks and sipped the fresh drink.

The bartender continued where Elliot had left off. "There's other magical folk who can pass, if only barely, as human – hags, veela, half-breeds, and others you've probably not heard of. We …" he emphasized, "can and do move back and forth, interacting with both the wizarding and mundane world, some more'n one world than t'other. We're the Fringe. There's an outer fringe to the magical world too; magical beings that cannot pass as human – goblins, centaur, merfolk, giants, sphinxes, and others – but don't have a real place in the wizarding world. On rare occasion you'll see some of'em in places like this."

"There are others? Places where the fringe meets, I mean?"

"O'course. Th' Fringe takes all sorts," said the tattooed man. He held out his hand. "Call me Hastur."

"James," Harry said. He wanted to ask what the big man was, but knew it would be rude. The man quirked a shaved eyebrow but did not say anything.

"And officially you probably fall into the Fringe too," Elliot interjected, "as you seem to have left the wizarding world behind. Just so you know, Elspeth is a mundane through and through. She just thinks this scene is cool. Knows nothing of the secret faces."

"Oh Christ, did he use the secret faces line?"

"He did," Harry confirmed with a smile. Odd or not, Harry suspected he might like it here.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Harry, for it was getting harder to think of himself as James with all the time he was spending at Tangents where people knew his real identity, looked down on the sleeping body of his girlfriend. She was gorgeous, probably more now with her face free of makeup and an innocent pout on her sleeping lips than when she was in her full gothic regalia. She looked so peaceful. He was beginning to understand just how far from common that was. Elspeth was a passionate woman. She loved her work, was enthusiastic about sex, wanted romance and affection all the time, but also got angry easily and partied way too hard if nothing distracted her from her drinking. Just before the clock struck 6 a.m. and the alarm went off, the young wizard pulled the duvet back and kissed a line down from her throat to her belly. She stirred and pushed him away before he could get into really interesting territory.

"What time is it?" she mumbled.

"Time to wake up," Harry said as he rubbed her back, finding a knot and gently working it out. He liked that, even in the cooling weather, she slept nude under the thick duvet. "You said you have a gig this morning." This caused her to open her eyes and sit up. The bedding pooled at her waist.

"Oh yeah," she said. "I have to be there at half seven." She got out of bed, dragging Harry with her. "Come scrub my back. It's faster that way, and saves water." It did neither but they had fun.

"Would you like me to fix you something?" Harry asked afterwards. "I can do it while you dress."

"No thanks. They'll have a craft services table that I can graze on when I get there or have a free moment."

"Alright. How about I drop you by taxi. I'm headed out that way and it'll save you time on the tube."

"That'd be lovely, cheers." She gave him a quick but passionate kiss as she moved by him. Harry quickly threw on the clothes he had brought over knowing he would be spending the night. He spent about three nights a week at her place and she spent one or two a week at his. They were not quite ready to offer each other cupboard space, but they each had tooth brushes at the others flat.

Harry used his mobile to call one of the taxies he knew worked the area. They got out at quarter to seven and made it to the studio where Elspeth was working just in time. Harry told the driver to take him to a nearby café. He did not live in the area, but there were several prop and theatrical supply houses he wanted to check out. Part of his job was to be able to come up with any needed prop or equipment. He was not above transfiguring items when he had to, but they would not last. So he spent part of his free time looking around to know what was available and where to get it quickly. He also needed to know what was better to purchase and what could be hired at need. While two of the places he looked at were specifically marketed to theatre, film, & TV; three of them were basically just junk shops. Still you could find some interesting stuff in junk shops.

After lunch Harry made his way back to his flat. He still owned the house at #12 Grimmauld Place but he had not been back to it since he originally left England seven years ago. He was sure that someone, either a former friend or former foe – possibly both, would have a detection charm on it to let them know if anyone ever opened the place up again. He just did not want to deal with whomever that would be. Instead he had rented a flat after he had decided to stay in London when his last job ended. It was not palatial, but it was better than a bedsit, and he could afford not have to share it with a flat mate. Once home he changed into his work clothes and grabbed his tool case. He agreed to work with a show at Tangents and needed his special effects tools. He checked that the squibs, blank pistol, and bleeding knife props were in the case. Elspeth would be doing the sfx makeup, but he was handling the props and pyro effects.

At 4p.m. Harry was at the side door to the club. It looked very different in the day with the standard incandescents, rather than the black lights. Most of the day staff still seemed to be dressed in gothic style, just not full fashion. The day crew had fewer non-humans as well. Harry spotted Hazel Finn talking with an older man dressed in a business suit. He nodded to her, but did not want to interrupt. When she saw him, she called him over.

"Harry, this is my uncle, Francis Selwyn. He's one of the owners of Tangents. Uncle, this is Harry Potter. He's helping us out with Kelsey's upcoming show."

"Mr. Potter." The older man offered his hand. Harry took it.

"I prefer to be called James Potts. I don't go by Potter or Harry anymore, as I have told your niece a few times. She seems to derive some perverse pleasure from ignoring that request."

"I've heard of you," Selwyn said.

"Your family name's familiar too. Are you possibly related to a Delores Umbridge?" Harry thought the man was not a wizard, but he had a certain magical feel to him, possibly a squib.

"Umbridge, Good Lord no. I'd heard that she'd been claiming some relation with us, but I assure you she's no connection by either blood or marriage, at least not within the last five or six generations. The old families are so intermingled it is as likely that you're as related to her as we are." Selwyn paused for a moment and the smile fell from his face. "You may also have heard that my brother, Michael Selwyn, was a Death Eater. I'm not and have no pureblood leanings. Wouldn't really make sense from a squib. I hope that won't be a problem."

Harry looked at the older man, then at Miss Finn. He figured she was not the Death Eater's daughter, but wondered how much she knew about the wizarding world. Finally he replied, "I'd rather you not let your family know I'm back in the country. That's one of the reasons I go by James now."

"That shouldn't be a problem. Michael and our parents are dead. And I have almost no interaction with my other brother. Not that he had anything to do with the Dark Lord. Sampson was in Egypt and India for most of the wars. I can't imagine he would be a fan of yours, but I never heard him say anything against you."

"Still I would rather not have my return become common knowledge."

"As you like." Then he grinned. "Not that it's me that you have to worry about. One of the other owners is your old classmate, Lavender Thomas. When she hears you're back, the whole world will soon know."

"Lavender Brown?"

"Married Dean about four years ago. They are sickeningly sweet together," Finn added. "She's a good friend of mine. And … well, I may have mentioned that I saw you the other night."

"Joy…" Harry muttered as he combed his fingers through his short hair. "Well if I suddenly disappear on you it's either the bad guys have found me and done me some harm, or I'm running from all my old school acquaintances who now know where I am. Or both."

"I hope it's not that bad," Selwyn said. "But if you need a quick way out of the country, let me know. I … know a guy that knows a guy."

"Thanks, I think," Harry said. "Now where's Kelsey? We're supposed to be looking at possible special effects. You may want have someone standing by with a bucket and mop. Some of these things get messy."

At seven Elspeth called and Harry met her at a nice curry place for dinner. After an enjoyable meal they returned to her flat to change for the night. It was Thursday, but they were meeting some friends at Tangents and Elspeth enjoyed dressing for the club. It took her almost an hour to get her makeup and hair just so, but the wait was worth it. Harry was really beginning to appreciate the mix of modern and Victorian fashion Elspeth preferred. He quickly took grabbed his camera and clicked off several pictures of her. He knew she wanted to start modeling and he enjoyed photographing her. "Why don't I take the camera this evening? Got some shots of you in your natural habitat."

"You just want to take naughty pictures of me in my natural form," she flashed her bum to make sure he knew to what she was referring.

"That too, but I expect we won't be seeing much of that at the club."

"Well… if you play your cards right." She grinned. Harry smiled and shot the expression on her face.

They arrived at Tangents shortly after ten. The place was pretty crowded, though not packed. Harry and Elspeth went up to the Aerie to find Elliot. Surprisingly neither he nor his girlfriend Rachel were there. After grabbing drinks the couple started talking with a few model friends of Elspeth's. Harry quickly grew board with the gossip about people he did not know. So he excused himself. "I'm going to see if I can find Elliot."

"Don't get lost. It's pretty dark and scary down there," his young companion teased.

"If I'm not back in 40 minutes, save yourself." He wandered down in the area called the Catacombs. This was a tangle of small meeting rooms and play spaces on the ground floor built to resemble the Paris Catacombs. The rooms were mostly used for small parties or for groups that need a place to get friendlier. It was effectively clothing optional, though the authorities may not be aware of that fact. Harry and Elspeth had attended a "party" in one of the rooms. While group play was not Harry's scene, he was willing to help the younger woman expand her horizons while trying to keep her safe.

When he got into the maze he saw Elliott following a young man and woman into one of the small rooms. The woman was not Rachel. Harry wondered if the vampire was playing the field. The young man that went in with them looked vaguely familiar, but Harry had not gotten a good enough look to try to search his memories. He decided not to disturb them and started back towards the Aerie.

When he got to the foyer he saw Rachel being dragged toward the Catacombs by a large man with shocking white hair and artfully ripped t-shirt and jeans and a leather collar. His fangs poked up from his serious underbite. Harry could feel the vampire's aura as he neared. Rachel was struggling to break from the white haired vamps grasp. "No! Let go of me. I'm Elliot's. I don't want to go with you."

People were getting out of their way and no one was making an effort to impede them. Harry looked around, but did not see any of the bouncers. He did notice one tall, pale woman with long wavy blond hair dressed in a leather cat suit paying particular attention. She was too far away for Harry to get any sort of read on her, but something about her caught his eye for a moment. Seeing no other option, Harry stepped into the path of the man dragging the young woman. "Hey Rachel. Elspeth's looking for you upstairs."

"What the fuck? Move it unless you want to bleed," the gruff vampire growled.

"James, Help please!" Rachel called out. She was a young, zaftig Afro-Caribbean woman with smooth café au lait skin and tight braided hair. Harry knew she was pure mundane, but she knew about vampires at least as she was Elliott's regular vessel, that is she voluntarily offered him her blood. Harry assumed there was a sexual component to the feeding as well.

"I think Elliott might object to you taking his vessel. Is there an etiquette to this sort of 'borrowing' or are you just being a prick?" Harry said, smirking at the big guy. He realized that the white hair reminded him a bit of Malfoy - father and son, though the face was more like Goyle's, and that brought out the worst in him.

The vamp tossed Rachel aside. Her feet left the floor and she rocketed towards one of the faux stone walls. Harry's wand appeared in his hand and he cast a silent cushioning charm ensuring she did not break. When Harry turned back to the vampire, he was standing right in Harry's face with a broad grin showing many pointed teeth. Harry was pretty sure there was a bit of drool as well. "You want to play instead little wizard?"

"Not my type, big guy. But I bet you can find someone to freely offer what you want. You're in the right place." Harry stared the vamp in the eye and resheathed his wand without looking. He knew that most people in the club either already knew about magic or thought this sort of thing was just another theatrical. He hoped there were no real innocents around, like Elspeth. She still thought this was all make believe.

"Come with me little one. I think you want to _offer me everything_." A small tendril of something tried to slip into the wizards tightly locked mind. Vampires all had a subtle mind control they called their mesmer. It was a little like the sexual allure he had faced from veela, with just a touch of Voldemort's mind rotting imperius mixed in for flavoring. Harry did not even bother to acknowledge it.

"Anyone interested in a little friendly transfusion with Prince Charming here?" Harry raised his voice, playing to the crowd, though he never took his eyes off the vampire. "He's really nicer than he initially seems, and doesn't smell nearly as bad as you think. I'm sure you'd get used to it."

"Fuck you!" the Vamp threw a lightning fast punch. Harry managed to slap the blow aside, redirecting it and snagging the big guys wrist. The young wizard twisted in a complex move that ended with the vampire on the ground and Harry holding his wrist. _Aikido for the win!_ He thought. Before the vampire could power out of the hold Harry stepped back and held both hands palm out in front of his chest.

"Whoa Nelly, no need to get violent, mate." Harry spotted Hastur and two bouncers approaching behind the troublemaker, who was carefully climbing to his feet.

"Try that again," the vamp said. He pulled his fist back for another blow, but before he could release it, Hastur had one hand on the back of the vampire's neck and one arm around the cocked arm.

"Stop," Hastur ordered. To Harry's surprise the vampire stopped. The wizard noticed that the nails on the bartender's hand holding the vamp's neck had grown to some pretty nasty claws.

"What's all this?" asked a middle aged man in a black suit. He looked Eastern European with a broad face, short cropped steel grey hair, and heavy whiskered jowls. He was rounded, but looked like he packed some muscle under the flab. Harry realized that the newcomer was vampire. His aura was compacted somehow. Harry did not feel it until the older vampire brushed past the wizard, knocking his shoulder. The blow almost spun Harry off his feet.

"Osmani," the voice came from the crowd. The crowd fell almost silent. Harry heard one whispered _Donna Lumbarda_. He turned and found the tall blond he had noticed earlier stepping forward. "If you can't control your pets, you shouldn't bring them out in public." Harry was shocked that he could not feel anything from her aura. She appeared to be a pure human, but the reaction she was causing in the crowd seemed to contradict that possibility.

"Lombardi." The older vamp's response was like flaked obsidian – sharp, brittle, and a precursor to bloodletting. The two stared at each other. No one made a noise. The beat of the music drifted up from the Pit. Eventually the song ended. Before another started Osmani turned away and barked at the big vamp. "Torrence, it's time to leave this place. The stench offends me."

Hastur released his charge and the two vampires made their way out of club's door. Harry nodded to the bartender. He knew the mystery being played a wider role than just tending bar, but as long as the bald man kept selling him drinks, that is how Harry would think of him. Hastur nodded back and started back for the Aerie. Elspeth was standing on the stairs with her friends. Selwyn was talking with the woman who had faced down the older vamp. Harry thought for a moment about introducing himself. Then Elliott and the two people he had been sequestered with came out of the Catacombs. Rachel threw herself at the artist.

"Elliott, Where were you? I was so scared."

"What happened, little flower?"

"It was horrible, and you weren't there."

"What …" then Rachel noticed the woman with the two men.

"You were with her!" Her voice was climbing into the inaudible. Harry bet any werewolves in the club were perking up their ears.

"I had a meeting with Gina and Eric. It was business. You know you're my only."

"Bullshit, you'd suck a kangaroo if it would let you play with its feet. Gina, you skank!" Rachel turned to slap the woman in question. "Stay away from him."

Said woman ducked the blow and pulled a wand. "You really want to do this?"

Harry sighed and tossed a plastic cup from a table at Hastur's shoulder. The bald bartender turned back, saw the impending fem-brawl, and motioned to two of the bouncers to interfere. They stepped between the two women. Harry, not knowing if Gina would commence casting, threw another cup at her wand hand at the same time he silently summoned the wand. It made it look like he had knocked it from her grip.

She whirled to see who had taken her wand. "Harry? Harry Potter? Is that you?"

This got the attention of half the patrons of the club. All eyes, including Elspeth's and the blond woman's, turned to him.

"Fuck me."


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

"Who the fuck is Harry Potter?" demanded Elspeth when he had gotten her back to her flat. They had left just after the confrontation, though Harry almost had to drag her out. She wanted answers but he was able to put her off until they got to her place. It was closer than his and Harry figured that if things went badly he would rather get kicked out of her place than to have to escort her home from his.

"I have always wondered if your parents named you Elspeth. It is a beautiful name, but not one you hear very often."

That stopped her from a moment. She looked at him then answered, "No. I was born Nancy."

"And I was born Harry Potter. I changed my name when I started working in films. It just so happens that Gina went to the same boarding school I did and recognized me as Harry. It's no big secret. I just never thought to tell you, like I never thought to ask you about your name change. Why did you change your name?"

"I never liked the name Nancy. It was my grandmother's name and she always hated me. When I was a girl they called me Bubbles, and if you tell anyone that I'll rip your pecker off and put it in the vitamix."

Harry gulped and crossed his legs. The girl was scary, beautiful but scary. "So when did you change to Elspeth, which I have to reaffirm is a much sexier name than Bubbles, or Nancy." When she grinned Harry knew the worst was past. The talked some more. Then talking turned to snogging, then to sleeping. Once again the late hour and drink took their toll on the lady fair. Harry decided he could not be bothered going back to the club and dealing with the fallout that night. He'd wait, maybe a few days, to let things cool down.

In the morning Elspeth woke Harry in a particularly pleasant fashion. They had a leisurely morning as neither had a gig that day. In fact, they both had a rare free weekend. "We should take advantage of this," Harry suggested.

"What do you mean?"

"How about I take you out of town for the weekend. Is there any place you might like to go?"

"I've heard of this fun club in Cambridge called the Q Club or Club Q or something. It's supposed to be the only alt club in the area and it is having a 90's night on Saturday. Could be fun."

"Sounds like. And I could take a look at the University during the day."

"Oh that would be brilliant. I've never been, but I hear the architecture is outstanding. I'll have to pick up a guide. James … or should I call you Harry?"

"I'd prefer James, but there's a pretty big chance that now that my name's out anyone that knows about my old school or has connections to it will likely call me Harry. And one of the owners of Tangents is a classmate, so there're likely to be more than one old school chum there. You can call me whatever you like."

"I think I'll call you Heathcliff."

"How gothicly romantic. You're just looking for someone to dance with."

The weekend in Cambridge was great. They spent the days wandering the colleges and cathedrals of Cambridge and the nights at the small club making new friends. Harry did not discover any magical patrons so enjoyed what he expected would be one of his last nights of anonymity. He had committed to help with Kelsey's theatrical in a week so he knew he would have to go back to Tangents and face the fallout from his identity's revelation. So Monday morning they returned to London and Monday afternoon he returned to the club, only to find it surrounded by crime scene tape and police investigators.

"This can't be good," Harry muttered. Finn and Selwyn pulled up in a late model BMW. Selwyn was driving. He parked in the reserved spot in the alley next to the club. Harry strolled over. The alley was not in the police cordon, so Harry was able to meet them as they got out of the car. "What's going on?" he asked.

"We got a call from our day crew supervisor. He found some dead bodies in the club. Stupid bastard called the police first, so now we have an investigation all over our club. At least it's our night off." Selwyn looked at the police with a particular distaste. It almost seemed personal. Then what he said registered.

"The regular police won't be able to handle this. Finn, can you contact Lavender and ask her to inform the Ministry. I doubt you want them here, but with so many ..." Harry looked around before continuing. "... magicals in the club they have to cover this up." Uncle and niece looked at him then nodded. Finn pulled out her mobile as a constable approached.

"Pardon me, are you connected with the club?" the woman asked. She was in her mid-thirties and dressed like you would expect a police detective - tweeds and corduroy. A sort of unofficial uniform, or maybe it was just the cool weather. "I'm Detective Sergeant Juno."

"I'm Francis Selwyn. I own Tangents. I understand our Mr. Guppy found two bodies. Do we know who they are?"

"I'm just the initial officer on the scene. A detective inspector will be arriving shortly to take charge. He'll be able to tell you what has happened. Until then I'd like to ask you a few questions."

"Yeah, alright." Selwyn answered. He led the detective away from Finn and Harry. After a moment Finn came over and nodded. They stood silently side by side watching the uniformed police move purposefully around the site. Several were going in and out of the club's front door. Harry silently identified eight officers, including Detective Sergeant Juno.

About fifteen minutes later another car pulled up. Four people got out. Harry almost groaned when he saw them. He recognized three of them. One was a long haired auror that Harry had seen before but never knew his name. Another was Chambers, one of the Ravenclaw quidditch team from Harry's days at Hogwarts. Not a bad guy at the time, but who knows what time has changed. The last person out of the car was the last person Harry had hoped to ever see again - Draco Malfoy. The auror walked up to Juno and showed her a badge. Draco, Chambers, and the unidentified witch started pulling the other officers aside and obliviating them. Looks like Malfoy worked for the Ministry now.

After ten minutes the police started packing up. Once they had gone the Ministry personnel came over. They all stopped when they saw Harry. "P-Potter?" Draco sputtered.

"Malfoy." Harry replied simply.

"What the hell are you doing here?"

"I'm working here at the moment. You with the Obliviators now?"

"I am. And I'm seeing a lot of muggles that should not be aware of what's going on. It looks like we have a lot of work to do."

"Back off boy. I knew your father before you were born," Selwyn growled. "Wave your wand in my direction and we'll see what happens."

"And who are you?" Malfoy sneered.

"A Selwyn." The ferret's brows rose at that proclamation. "My brother still holds the Selwyn seat on the Wizengamot. And she's my niece. Family of wizards are exempt from the Statute. Learn your own laws before you start making threats."

After a moment's awkward silence the long haired auror came back out. He motioned for Draco to approach. Harry, Selwyn, and Finn followed the Ministry team into the club. They caught part of the auror's report. "... definitely Munch, and it looks like he was killed by a vampire. But he got his attacker too."

"Who was the vampire?" Selwyn asked. The auror turned to him, then looked at Draco. Draco nodded.

"We have not identified the perpetrator at this time," the auror began.

"I didn't ask about the perpetrator. I asked about the vampire victim. If you'll let me see, I can likely identify him or her." Selwyn started towards the Catacombs entrance. The auror stepped to block his path. "My name is Francis Selwyn. I am part owner of this club. Please give me your name and identification."

The auror pulled out a wallet with a badge and ID card which he handed to Selwyn. Selwyn jotted down the particulars then handed the wallet back "Mr. Willimason, thank you. I appreciate the Ministry handling the police investigators. If one of the victims is a vampire the regular police would be worse than useless. I imagine you'll want to wait until the Council investigator gets here before proceeding. If you'll allow me to identify the vampire I can call Ms. Lombardi and let her know what's happened."

"There's no need to involve the Council, I'm sure," Malfoy said airily. "This looks like an open and shut case. A vicious bloodsucker murdered a Ministry law enforcer. There are going to be serious consequences. It will be up to the Ministry to determine how to best approach the Council on this matter."

"So," Harry said, "you're an auror, judge, and jury; as well as an obliviator. How do you do it? I wouldn't think there were enough hours in the day to do so many things so badly."

"Shut your gob, Potter," Malfoy barked.

"Harry Potter!" Williamson gasped as he finally realized who was standing before him. "It is a pleasure, Mr. Potter. Glad to have you back in the wizarding world."

"I'm not back," Harry muttered quietly. "Shall we identify the body?" He said more loudly. Williamson shrugged and led the way back to room 4, the same room Harry had seen Elliott, Gina, and the other guy going into the last time he had been in the club.

"According to the muggles, the door was locked when the fellow what found the bodies …"

"Mr. Guppy, our day shift supervisor. It's his job to check all the public spaces to make sure nothing important was left the night before, as well as checking for damage or particular messes."

"Whatever," Williamson did not sound particularly interested in Mr. Guppy.

"That reminds me, Mr. Guppy needs a bit of modification," Draco said to the two other obliviators. "Go find him and take care of it."

The auror continued with is recitation. "Gippy said the door was locked, and when he opening it he found … this" The auror opened the door on an abattoir. Blood covered most surfaces. The smell of shit, and copper, and cooked meat was heavy in the closed room. Finn shrieked and ran. Draco flinched and grew even paler. Selwyn and Harry looked in with set faces.

"Damn," Harry said. "That's Elliott."

"Yes it is." Selwyn agreed, his voice completely flat. "And the other one is Eric something or other. He was relatively new."

"Munch," Said Williamson, "Eric Munch, watchwizard at the Ministry."

"I vaguely remember him from back in the war." Harry confirmed. They all stood silently for several minutes, taking in the gruesome sight and trying to see what had happened.

Williamson did not enter the room, but pointed from the door way with his want. A beam of light illuminated the details as he lectured. "You can see that Mr. Munch had his throat torn out. There is blood and flesh under the vampire's nails."

"His name is … was … Elliott Pitney," Harry said. "What happened to him?" Elliott's skin was puffy and discolored, even pealing in some places. Blood had poured from his mouth, nose, and ears, as well as from rents in his skin where it had swollen and split.

"Looks like a blood boiling curse," Williamson said. "Nasty, painful, and effective on vampires."

"Eric has his wand in hand," Selwyn pointed out.

"It looks like what Mr. Malfoy said. The vampire attacked Mr. Munch. Mr. Munch defended himself with a blood boiler, but was unable to stop the vampire before it ripped him apart. The vamp then died from the curse." Williamson said, looking at Malfoy.

"Couldn't Munch have attacked Elliott and Elliott defended himself? The end results would be the same, right?" Harry asked.

"But why would Mr. Munch attack first?" Williamson asked.

"Why would Pitney?" asked Selwyn.

"Well, he's a vamp, isn't he? Bloodthirsty, the lot of them." The auror looked confused by the question. Draco was nodding in agreement.

"And there we have a sterling example of the unbiased investigative mindset of the British Auror Corps." They all turned to find the tall blond woman who had the standoff with the older vampire the other night. _Lombardi_ , Harry remembered, _La_ _Donna Lumbarda_ _._

"Who are you? What are you doing here?" Williamson asked, pulling out his badge. "This is my crime scene. You need to leave."

The woman pulled her own badge. "According to Section 3.2.14 of the Coventry Accords any felony involving both a wizard and a vampire must be jointly investigated by representatives of the Ministry of Magic," she pointed to Williamson, "and the Council of Elders." She pointed to herself. "I think you mean this is _our_ crime scene. Now read me in, then go contact Shacklebolt or whoever is in charge over there and have him send a full team. One auror won't do."

"You want me to contact the Minister of Magic?" the auror said nervously.

"Shack's the Minister now? He was Head Auror last I talked to him." She looked thoughtful for a moment. "Then contact whomever your boss is and get a team here. I think I can examine the scene myself."

Williamson and Malfoy turned to Selwyn. "Do you at least have a floo connection?" Malfoy asked, obviously not expecting a positive answer. Selwyn just smiled and shook his head. The two ministry men left the corridor, headed towards the club's front door. Soon afterwards there was the sound of a double crack as the apperated away.

"I guess they don't really need telephones or other effective communications, if they have instantaneous travel," Harry said.

"They?" _La Donna_ asked with a quirked eyebrow. "Are you not a wizard, Mr. Potter? Or should I address you as Sir Harry?"

"Please god, no. I'd prefer James Potts, but if you insist on the other name I really prefer just Harry. And while I _am_ a wizard, I'm not _that_ kind of wizard. I left that world seven years ago and would have been very happy to have stayed clear of it for the rest of my life. I particularly never wanted to meet that albino ferret again.

She nodded at Harry then walked up to Selwyn. "Tell me what happened." He gave her everything they knew. He did not offer any suggestion on the order of events that led to the current situation.

Harry stayed silent. He regretted that something so horrible had happened to an acquaintance. Realistically he could not call anyone at Tangents a friend, except Elspeth. Ove the years since he left school Harry had become much more adept at meeting people and being friendly. But most relationships in the film business were superficial at best and most were temporary, lasting only the length of the job. There were people that the young wizard had worked with on more than one project. A few even grew close enough for him to consider friends. But most were just acquaintances. Elliott fit that category. Contemplating Harry realized he did not really know much about the vampire. Certainly not enough know why someone might have killed him, or to be fair, why he might have killed someone.

After several minutes, the blond woman spoke. "I've seen enough for now. I'll have to wait for the real Ministry investigators before finding out anything else. Must follow procedure, you know." She turned to the young wizard. "We've not been formally introduced. I'm Rosamund Lombardi. I am the Council's chief troubleshooter."

"Forgive my ignorance, but who's the Council?" Harry said, pointing to his chest. "Product of a Hogwarts education so there's a lot about the world I don't know."

She smiled. "Yes, Binns never did much care for teaching about my kind. The Council of Elders is the governing body for the vampires of Britain and their affiliated peoples. Along with the Goblin Thrang, we are the largest and oldest organized groups of non-wizards in the magical world. There may be more weres or house elves, but they are not organized in a unitary body. This gives us bargaining power with the Ministry and has, in the past, allowed us to negotiate certain concessions and freedoms."

"Binns always taught about goblin rebellions. Were there vampire rebellions as well?"

"We prefer to think of them as wars rather than rebellions, but yes, there have been several. The last one was only about 125 years ago. But the deaths started to spill into the mundane world and we ended it with a truce."

"The Coventry Accords?" Harry asked.

"No, those are older. It was a breach of them that led to the last war."

"This's fascinating, really, but I need to get this room cleaned up. It's going to take hours to get that blood out of the carpets and woodwork. And if I don't, the scent will drive most of the Youngbloods crazy." Selwyn complained. "And I'm going to have to call Edward and Lav. Really Edward should be here. He's the bloody manager."

"He was detained, but should be here soon," Rosamund replied. "As I said, we have to wait." And wait they did. Harry wandered out to the street. He wanted to get away from the bodies and was deciding whether he need to be there at all. He had no real connection but it was all like watching a really slow and morbid play. Elspeth was going out with some girlfriends, so he was not expected anywhere. He could not force himself to go yet. Ten minute later he really wished he had forced himself, or that he had never come back to Britain.

A crowd of Ministry types showed up in magically expanded sedan. They poured out like clowns from a clown car. There must have been ten or twelve. Harry recognized a quite few of them. It seemed that his Hogwarts class, and those on either side of it, had filled a lot of the Ministry slots left empty by the war. Two familiar faces in particular were ones he had hoped to avoid.

"Harry!" A bushy-haired, brunette missile slammed into him and gave him a rib cracking hug. Then she proceeded to start pounding on his shoulder. He extricated himself after the second or third blow and caught her wrists.

"Hello Hermione. Please don't hit me."

"Harry!" Came the voice of his red-headed ex-girlfriend. Like several others, Ginny was wearing a badge on a lanyard around her neck. "Where have you been!"

"Yes, where have you been?" Hermione repeated. "It's been seven years. You disappear and all we hear from you is the very occasional postcard from some exotic place."

"See, you do know where I've been. You got my cards."

"Not good enough mister," Ginny said. "My mum cried for days when you left."

"Your Mum was mourning your brother. Of course she was crying." Harry said more seriously. Not back five minutes and Ginevra was trying to guilt trip him. "Not to be a reunion pooper, but we might want to take this inside, off the street. There is some serious shit in there and if you're the ministry team, you need to get your head in the game."

"Are you involved in this, Harry? Hermione asked quietly.

The young wizard took his oldest friend's arm and started to lead her into the club. "Only in that I have been doing some work here and know one of the victims."

"Stop right there please, Sir Harry," interrupted an older man with a badge. "We'll need to get a formal statement from you. You should not talk to anyone until we have that opportunity. We need to preserve the evidence."

"If you say so. And you are?"

"Senior Auror Gideon McMillian. I'll be in charge of the investigation."

"Then you'll want to talk with Rosamund Lombardi." Harry paused when Hermione gasped at the name. "She's running the Council side of things. She was in the Catacombs."

"I'll do that. Please find a comfortable place to wait. I'll be with you as soon as I can. Mrs. Weasley, you're with me. Auror Malfoy, please find a place for Sir Harry to wait, then find me."

"Yes, sir." Ginny said then motioned for a very shocked Harry to precede her.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

"Madam Lombardi, I'm Senior Auror MacMillan. I will be the DMLE lead on this investigation. This is Mrs. Hermione Weasley from the Beings Division of the DRCMC."

"The number three auror and the famous Mrs. Weasley. I appreciate the Ministry sending their best." Rosamund replied. She had heard of this auror. He was said to be humorless and unimaginative, but dogged and not as corrupt as much of the force. She did not expect to get much entertainment out of him, except for the farce working with the Ministry usually offered. Weasley on the other hand was said to be something special. She had real potential to offer diversion. "Shall I walk you through the scene or would you like to look at it on your own?"

"I've been given the initial report from Auror Williamson. I'd like to hear your thoughts." MacMillan started towards room four. The auror showed no reaction to the grisly scene. Mrs. Weasley, on the other hand, faded to a lovely shade of green then turned her back on the scene. After she took several deep breaths she steeled herself and observed the investigators silently.

Rosamund started pointing out the details. "It seems obvious on the face of it what the cause of death for the two were - a blood boiling curse killed Mr. Pitney and massive trauma to the throat killed Mr. Munch. Any disagreement?"

"Unless further investigation proves differently, I can stipulate that for the initial discussion," MacMillan agreed. "The pertinent question seems to be in what order each was killed? Did Mr. Pitney attack Mr. Munch first or the other way around?"

"As you may know, I am not a witch. That is, I cannot use your kind of magic. I would like you to consider a hypothetical. Could you, or another wizard, have killed these two people and make it look like a they killed each other?"

"Are you suggesting that this was the work of a third party?" the wizard asked.

"I am asking if this was a possibility. With magic, many things are possible. If this is one, then it should be considered." Wizards could be so single minded. Once they had an idea in their head, it could take a prybar to shift it.

MacMillan looked around the room pensively. After a few minutes he nodded. "I suppose if the hypothetical third party ..."

"Or parties?"

"Or parties, were in the room before the victims entered and locked the door ...

"Or apperated or portkeyed in afterwards?"

"Yes, yes," he almost barked. Rosamund smiled inwardly. "It is possible that a spell caster could have stunned both victims then cast the blood boiler on Pitney and used a cutting or gouging curse, or some sort of transfigured claw or weapon, on Munch. He, she, or they could then have arranged the bodies then apparated away. Yes, it is possible."

"To be fair, a similar question must be asked," Mrs. Weasley stepped into the discussion gamely, "We're not vampires so we don't know the limitations of your mesmerization ability. Would it be possible that a vampire might have been able to control both victims, either before they arrived in the room or while in the room with them, and cause them to attack each other?"

Rosamund thought about it then answered, "It is difficult for one vampire to control another in that way. But Pitney was young and not very powerful, so a sufficiently old or powerful vampire might well have been able to force them to attack each other. But he or she would have had to be present for such a difficult mesmer. Getting out of the locked room might have been problematic, but ultimately possible. Good thinking."

"Let me check something." The Senior Auror drew his wand and summoned Munch's wand from the dead man's hand. " _Priori Incantatem,_ " he incanted. The results revealed that the last spell the wand had cast was a blood boiling curse. "That rather seems to support the idea that they did for each other."

The wizard gathered samples of Munch's blood and the blood on Pitney's hands and a blood matching charm identified them as the same. "Again it seems that your vampire ripped the throat out of our wizard."

Rosamund looked carefully at Pitney's hands. His nails were pared short. She removed a sharp knife from her bag and, after wiping one bloody finger free of surface blood, scraped carefully at the dark materiel under them. She sniffed at the results, then put it in a plastic bag. MacMillan watched her work then asked, "What'd you find?"

"Paint."

"Why paint?" Mrs. Weasley asked.

"It only makes sense. He was a painter," Rosamund answered. "What I wonder is why there is no blood or flesh to be found. Not that he could have done that kind of damage with his blunt nails. If he had his claws out when he attacked Munch, then died from the curse almost immediately afterwards, they would still be out after his death. That is the way it works for us. When we are killed either we stay in the form we are in, or we crumble to dust. It depends on several factors. Nothing would cause claws to revert to nails."

"So a mark against the mutual murder theory?" Mrs. Weasley concluded.

"Ahem, Mrs. Weasley. I believe you are here in a liaison capacity and to see that the Accords are adhered to, not in an investigative capacity." MacMillan's voice was stern. Weasley reacted almost as if struck. Rosamund observed.

"I rather think we need to concentrate on what has happened. Finding and recording evidence in as much detail as we can. Then we can analyze and hypothesis," the vampire suggested. No reason to have all the fireworks at once. Better to spread out the drama and savor it. So the Ministry and Counsel investigators worked the crime scene. Rosamund used a combination of twentieth century technology and techniques, combined with her centuries old analytical mind and supernatural senses. The aurors spread out over the site and used a variety of forensic spells and potions. After three hours they removed the bodies and cleaned up the site.

# # # # #

"So … Malfoy?" Harry finally said. He and Ginny were in the Aerie. Other aurors had Finn and Selwyn stashed in other parts of the club. They were to be kept separate until the lead investigators were ready to question them. No one was willing to say how long that would take.

"Yes. We got married about two years ago."

"I … Congratulations."

"Look Harry. Draco's not like you remember him. Sure he was a prat and his father was a death eater. But Draco's not like that anymore. He saved your life, if you remember."

"I remember." Harry put a lot more meaning into those two words than comfortably fit. He did remember Draco not identifying him and his friends to Bellatrix after their capture during the war. He also remembered Draco telling his cronies not to kill him in the Room of Requirement, though Crabbe tried anyway. Still … this was Draco Bloody Malfoy.

"We started dating after the war, after you disappeared. We got married after his father died. Lucius never liked me."

"Hermione and Ron ended up together?"

"Sort of. They got married soon after they graduated, but they're having some problems. Sort of separated now. Don't know how that'll go." Ginny paused from a moment then turned red. "All of which you'd know if you'd taken the bloody effort to stay in contact. Even if you had to run away after the war, you could've sent a fucking letter. It's not like you didn't know where we were, though not even owls could find you. Where the hell were you!?"

"I …" Harry began then sighed. "I couldn't stay. So many people were dead. So many were hurt. And I thought it was all my fault. I just couldn't be here. I couldn't deal with it. I know _now_ it wasn't really my fault. I didn't cause Riddle to go crazy and kill people. And I sure as shit didn't cause the death eaters to follow that mad man. But at the time… I had to get away."

"You hurt a lot of people. When you left without a word. You hurt your friends and family."

"I know. And I'm sorry. But I had to do it for me. Staying would have killed me. Again. I _died_ that day. I had to find a way to live. And I couldn't do it in the wizarding world. Not after all that'd happened. So I left."

"Where'd you go?"

"I grabbed my gold from Gringotts and went muggle. I stumbled on a crew shooting a film. I didn't know what was going on and thought people were really in trouble. I jumped in to save the day and royally screwed up their shot. Luckily the crew laughed at me rather than calling the police. I went out with them that night and the next day I worked to help them redo the setup. I ended up working the rest of the movie, then followed some of the crew to their next film. Eventually I found my way to LA where I've been working since. At the end of the summer a film brought me back here and…"

"Here you are."

"Yeah, here I am." Ginny struck almost faster than Harry could see. But he caught her hand before it touched his cheek. "No Ginny. You don't get to hit me. No one gets to hit me anymore. I understand that you're angry and upset, but that kind of violence is wrong."

"Fuck you Potter. You should never have come back. You didn't need us so we don't need you."

"You may well be right." Harry got up and walked to the bar. He pulled down a glass and got himself an orange juice. He really wanted a drink, but knew he needed all his faculties until he got out of this mess. "Can I get you something?"

Ginny just folded her arms and turned her back to him. The sat in different parts of the lounge without saying a word for the next several minutes until a buxom woman came racing up the stairs and threw herself into Harry's arms.

"Harry!" Lavender Thomas, _nee_ Brown, squealed. She had grown into a striking beauty, marred only by some faint scars left over from Greyback's attack in the final battle. They seemed to be covered with mundane makeup. She squeezed him to her ample bosom and Harry felt more than a bit of envy for Ron, her Hogwarts beau, and Dean, her husband.

"Lav," Harry said, pushing free of her clutches. He looked her up and down. "You look great." She preen under his appreciative attention.

"Don't be getting any ideas, Mr. Potter. I'm a married witch, you know."

"Congratulations to Dean. Congrats to you on the great club. I understand you're one of the owners."

"Mrs. Brown, please don't talk to Mr. Potter," Ginny said, her tone quite quelling. Harry wondered if she resented her old boyfriend marrying her brother's old girlfriend. "We need to keep all witnesses separate until they've been questioned. Auror Jaspers will take you to a waiting area." She gestured for a younger man in uniform to remove Lavender.

"We'll talk later, Harry," his old classmate said as she was led away.

It was almost another hour before the two main investigators, and Hermione, made their way to the upstairs lounge. "Sir Harry," began MacMillan. Harry cut him off.

"Please, Senior Auror, I'd prefer to be called Harry. I don't use my title."

"Mr. Potter, I have a few questions for you. I would ask if you are willing to answer these under the effects of a truth spell. This spell cannot compel you to answer any question. But any question you refuse to answer, or refusing the use of the spell, may be used against you at a later time. Do you understand?"

"I do." Harry sighed.

"May we use the truth spell?"

"Yes." Harry never liked mind magic, but was curious to see this spell. He had never had it cast on him and wondered if it would work. Harry could power through compulsions and the imperius, and was protected against legilimency by his occlumency. He never taken veritaserum, so had no idea if it would affect him. Besides, he had nothing to hide.

MacMillan nodded then produced his wand. He cast the spell silently. Harry was disappointed. A small silver ball floated just above the table in front of Harry. "Please state your full name." the older wizards ordered.

"Harry James Potter." The ball turned gold.

"Please answer the next question falsely. Did you graduate from Hogwarts?"

"Yes." The globe turned black. Hermione made a quietly displeased sound. Harry smiled. MacMillan did not.

"The spell seems to be working. We'll proceed. Auror Malfoy will observe closely for pensive purposes. A dictation quill will provide a physical transcript. Does anyone have any objections or questions?"

"Harry," asked Lombardi. "Do you mind if I record this?" She help up a mini-voice recorder. Hermione looked like she was about to say something when MacMillan cleared his throat.

"That won't be accepted as evidence by the Ministry." The Senior Auror declared.

"I know. But we do not use pensives. Harry?"

"I have no objection, just a question. Is that analog or digital?" the young wizard replied.

"Analog. Digital is too sensitive to the magical field put out by the truth spell and dictation quill. We have specially shielded electronics that can work in some magical environments."

"Thanks. I was probably not the only one wondering." Harry smiled at Hermione, who blushed slightly in return.

"Let's begin. Mr. Potter, tell me how you met the two victims…" The questions were thorough and had Harry repeating himself as the same information was requested in different ways and in conjunction with different lead-ins. Harry told the truth as simply as he could, not trying to hide anything. He did not really know all that much. Lombardi interjected the occasional question, usually to clarify something or draw a deeper recollection. They asked him to walk them through the physical altercation with Torrence and to show them where he was standing when he saw the two victims, plus Gina, walking into room four on Thursday night. After ninety minutes or so they ended the session.

"Thank you for your cooperation. If we have more questions at a later date, how may we contact you?" MacMillan asked. Harry sighed and gave his mundane address, phone, and email. The older man did not seem to know what to do with the latter two. "Don't you have a floo address?"

"I don't. Nor will owls be able to find me. Personal security concerns, you see."

"I can use these to contact him, sir. I keep a mobile for contacting my family." Hermione offered. MacMillan just nodded.

"Very well, I must ask you to leave as this is still an active crime scene," the Senior Auror replied. Then he turned to Lombardi. "Shall we talk to the Assistant Manager next?"

As the investigative team started to walk away, Hermione pantomimed calling him. Harry nodded. Ginny was silent as she escorted him to the door.

# # # # #

"I think we need to talk to Misses Sedgwick, Townson, and White as well as Messrs. Omani, Hastur, and Torrence," Rosamund stated after they had interviewed the Manager, Assistant Manager, and owners. "How would you like to do this? Shall we split up and each take half, or shall we go together? Remember that neither Torrence, Omani, nor I will be available during the day."

"I think we should do this together where possible. To avoid any appearance of bias or cover-up." MacMillan replied. "We still have time this evening. Shall we see if we can find our vampire witnesses?"

"I would like to put one of my people on this as well. He can try to track down Torrence. He has no permanent address on record. Omani does and we can go there while we wait for my man to report."

"All vampires in Britain are to have an address on record," Hermione interjected. "That's part of the Accords."

"Yes it is, Mrs. Weasley. But just as there are homeless people in both mundane and wizarding worlds, there are vampires that fall through the cracks. Torrence does have an official address - 65 Horseferry Rd, London. It is the Westminster Public Mortuary. Something of a joke among the young."

"Very well. Call in your assistant. Then we can go talk to Mr. Omani. I'll have my people contact the other witnesses during the day and have them meet us at the Ministry tomorrow evening."

"Sir, Remember that two of the witnesses are muggles and no one is sure what Mr. Hastur is. It might be best to meet elsewhere?" The vampire smiled inwardly at the frustration this case was causing her wizarding colleague. She also found Mrs. Weasley amusing, as she tried to find ways to guide her significantly less intelligent superior.

"Fine. We can meet at Tangents. Please reserve us a quiet room where we can talk." The infinitesimal moue the young witch made showed what she thought of being treated as a clerk. Rosamund turned away and used her mobile to call her assistant.

Adam Crole was a middle aged vampire, somewhat over 500 years since his turning. He had been working for the Council, in one capacity or another, for more than three centuries, through most of his troubled years. Unlike most of the Leode, Crole showed little personality change between his youth, his troubles, and his maturity. He had never seemed to identify with humans. To him they were always things to use or to ignore. Rosamund thought he had probably been what modern medicine called a psychopath or sociopath. He seemed to have an emotional connection, or at least the appearance of one, to the Council and nothing else. Still he made a very effective minion. "Crole," she said when he answered her call. "I need you to track down Torrence. I need to ask his some questions, preferably tonight or tomorrow night. Any questions?"

"Any limitations?"

"Normal rules apply. No collateral damage among the humans. We do not need this trouble getting bigger. And none among the Leode, unless you need to protect yourself. Understood?"

"Understood." He rang off without another word. Rosamund sighed. Among the infinitely unpredictable beings surrounding her, Crole was a dark hole. There was never anything unexpected from him, thus never anything amusing. He would find Torrence, she was sure. But he would not have any fun doing it.

It turned out the rest of the evening was a bust. Omani was not to be found, and Crole reported that Torrence was not at any of his common haunts. Wishing her wizarding companions a good day Rosamund went back to her flat. She made her way into the windowless segment of her abode and spent the time before dawn examining Pitney's mobile. Sunday evening there was a text message from Gina White asking him to meet with her and Eric at the club late Sunday night. If she was meeting with them, why wasn't she in the room during the attack? Or was she?


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

Dolores Umbridge, Director of the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, sat at her desk in her office on the third floor of the Ministry of Magic drinking her tea from a delicate china cup. Her assistant, Melinda Peasegood, had arranged several files on the upper right corner of her desk and set the morning's Daily Prophet in the center of the desktop. Both her tea and the desk arrangement were just how Dolores preferred. _Such a good girl_ , thought the Director, _I'll have to think of a suitable reward for her when I am Minister._

The headline of the Prophet read "HARRY POTTER RETURNS! QUESTIONED IN DOUBLE MURDER INVESTIGATION!" with a moving photo of the Boy-Who-Lived being escorted out of the door of Tangents by a uniformed auror.

Dolores sighed, knowing that the picture painted a far more pleasant image than was reflected in reality. The troublesome man was questioned, but not as a suspect. The photo simply illustrated him leaving the club to go on his own merry way, rather than right into the cell she knew he deserved. The text of the story was similarly slanted. It made it seem that the wizard's earlier disappearance and subsequent return were more dubious than was likely the truth. The Director smiled as this was done at her urging. While no longer the power behind the Minister, she still had a great deal of influence, much of it from the incriminating secrets she kept on important people throughout the wizarding world. It took very little of this influence to convince Rita Skeeter to offer a properly presented story.

Mention of Senior Auror MacMillan as lead investigator caused Dolores to offer a moue of displeasure. "That won't do," she muttered. "Melinda!" she called sweetly. A young woman whom few would call attractive quickly made her way into the office.

"Director?" she asked, quill poised over a parchment pad.

"I would like to speak to Mr. Williamson as soon as convenient. Send in Mr. Malfoy then as well. I would also like to meet with Mr. Savage. Please ask him to come to my office after I see Mr. Williamson." She gestured daintily to the newspaper headline. "This will likely be our focus for some time."

"Yes ma'am, I'll get right on that."

"Thank you. Oh, and the tea was wonderful this morning." Dolores turned back to her desk and pulled out Draco's initial report on the murders. She made an unconscious swallowing sound when she came across mention of that vampire busybody Lombardi. _She could prove to be a problem,_ the Director thought. _She always harps on about that dratted Accord, as if the Ministry could be reasonably bound to any agreement with such filth_. _It's not like she was even a witch before she was corrupted and befouled. What right has she to prattle on about 'legally binding' and 'possible consequences of default?'_

Thinking of the vampire enforcer brought back memories of her early childhood. Dolores had been born in 1940 to a family of poor wizards with little magical power and no money. They were purebloods, if barely. She had a single muggle great-great-grandparent on her mother's side, though they never spoke of him. But their purity did not gain her family much as they were only distantly related to any of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Her father worked as an enforcer for wizarding black marketeers during the War, doing business with both wizards and muggles. While she had not heard the term at the time, they were members of the Fringe. Not long after her younger brother Andrew was born, her mother was killed by German bombs during an attack on London. Her father's Aunt Beatrice moved in to help raise them. Dolores remembered her fondly. Nana B had the sweetest disposition, though when disobeyed she rightly resorted to corporal punishments. This helped keep her brother and her in line.

One day, not long after the end of the War, Dolores remembered the two children had snuck behind their house to the window looking into the back shed to watch her father at work. He had brought a man, she thought he was likely a muggle or a squib as he seemed afraid of Da's magic, into the shed and tied him to a chair. The man was crying piteously, begging for his life. The seven-year-old girl watched as her father used a bone breaking curse to snap each of the man's finger bones, one at a time. Each time he'd wait for the bound man's cries to subside before moving on to the next knuckle.

"Please!" the man cried, "Just tell me what you want. I'll do anything." But Dolores' Da never said anything. He just kept working. The children could see it must have been hard work because Da would periodically stop and rest, sipping from a cup of tea. Almost an hour later the bound man was a lump of quivering flesh, now beyond speech or tears. The witch remembered clearly her Da grabbing the man's sweat-soaked hair and lifting his face to look into Da's eyes. Finally, Da said something, "From Marius." Then he used his wand to slit the broken man's throat. She had been surprised at how much blood poured out.

Then the memory turned dark. Night had fallen while they watched their father. A full moon shone down on them. Dolores would never forget seeing the shed door burst open as a massive wolf-like creature crashed through them. It leapt on her Da and started tearing at him. Dolores and Drew ran around the shed to help their father, but when they got there the beast had already ripped their beloved Da's head from his neck. The monster whirled on them, snarling. They froze. It charged, knocking them both to the ground. For several seconds the beast and the two children rolled on the bloody flooring until it freed itself from them and raced off into the night. Nana B found them in the morning.

Dolores survived the attack with several nasty claw marks on her abdomen and upper thighs. Drew had been bitten. Nana B took them in. Marius, the man Da had worked for, came to see them and say how sorry he was their father was dead and that he would take care of them. Dolores had heard Marius tell her aunt that the werewolf was working for a rival gangster, and that he would see the beast got what was coming to him. Later she heard her Nana muttering that Marius was a squib and would not be able to do anything to a werewolf. "I wish I could kill all bloody werewolves, and squibs too!" the kindly old woman expostulated. At the next full moon, Drew turned. Five nights later, Dolores smothered him in his sleep.

No one ever found out, but Nana B suspected and encouraged the ruthless side of the young girl, letting her know that was the only way for low-powered witches with little beauty and no wealth to get ahead in the world. Throughout her Hogwarts years, Dolores showed the world her sweet side, while gathering blackmail on fellow students and arranging timely accidents for rivals. She used these same skills in her rise to power in the Ministry. She never married. The scars she got from the werewolf's attack never fully healed and she hid them all her life. Over time her hatred of the werewolves and muggles who had killed her parents grew. She included squibs because she blamed Marius for leading her father to his death. Eventually she grew to hate everyone and everything that was not like her. This certainly included beautiful blond bloodsucking beasts like Lombardi. _We'll just have to show that creature her true place in the world,_ the Director thought with a smile.

When Draco and the older auror were shown into her office, Dolores looked at them with a bright smile. "Gentlemen, the tragic murder of our colleague at the hands of a vicious monster offers us an opportunity to help show the world the consequences of the current Minister's misguided policies towards sub-humans."

"Is that what MacMillan's investigation has concluded?" Draco asked.

"I'm quite certain it would, eventually," Dolores waved off. "But our world does not have time to spend crossing every 'i' and dotting every 't' when, for all we know, these bloodsuckers are planning mass attacks on Diagon Alley or St. Mungo's. Even Hogwarts could be targeted. And more in line with our department's mandate, these creatures have the ability to rip away the secrecy that has so long protected our world from the barbarous depredations of the muggles."

"Here, here." Draco quietly agreed. Williamson stayed silent, but nodded along.

"Therefore, I'll be working to put you two back in charge of the investigation. You'll need to find the truth of the secret conspiracy against our world that our undercover operative uncovered. Be aware that that evil hussy Lombardi will try to cover all of this up, possibly trying to lay the blame for the deaths on our poor Mr. Munch, or some other wizard. I'll be working in the Wizengamot to bring this travesty to light. I may need your assistance in that endeavor, Mr. Malfoy."

"You have my complete support, Director," Draco assured.

"Wait for my word, but be prepared. You should get some rest this afternoon. It'll likely be a long night for you both." The wizards nodded in acknowledgement and left her office. She prepared her arguments for the Head Auror, whom she met later in his office.

"Mr. Savage, you know that according to the Preserving the Secrecy Act of 2004, threats to the Statute of Secrecy of this magnitude are under the investigative jurisdiction of the Secrecy Examination and Enforcement Directorate. SEED is mine, therefore this case is mine."

"I understand you might think that Dolores, but this isn't a Secrecy case. It's a murder case. And as such, per Ministry Regulation 5.15.7, falls under the jurisdiction of the Aurors. The fact that the case involves vampires brings in the Accords and the Beings Division, but I just don't see the need for SEED," the Head Auror disputed.

"This all happened at a muggle club. That alone puts it in my purview. My obliviators had to bewitch more than a dozen muggles and every day that this investigation continues there's the possibility of more stumbling across our world," the Director argued. "Not to mention that these beasts might uncover our world out of spite, just like they attacked my special agent. That's another thing. The victim of this heinous crime was an investigator working undercover for my department. That's yet another reason this must be investigated by us. It's very likely linked to our ongoing case."

"Munch was working for you?" Savage confirmed.

"He was, on a case that may well represent the greatest threat to our world since the Dark Lord."

"Hyperbole aside, I agree that the possibility that this may well connect to your larger case earns your investigator a seat at the table. I'll put forward that recommendation."

"While I still think the Wizengamot would agree with my interpretation of the relevant laws, I can accept shared jurisdiction, if you will see that Senior Auror MacMillan is the wrong man for the case. Historically he has not worked as well with my people as Auror Williamson. I think putting Williamson back as lead investigator, along with Mr. Malfoy for SEED, would be the best for the Ministry and all involved. Don't you agree?"

Savage looked over his glasses at the Director. She smiled agreeably at him. After a moment he said. "Very well. But Williamson reports to me. Remember, he's my auror."

"Of course."

# # # # #

"Sir! Did you hear what she did?" Hermione exploded as she pushed through the Minister's office door. Minister Shacklebolt was seated behind his large desk reading from a file.

"Good afternoon, Hermione. Who did what to whom?" the Minister asked. He set the file aside and gave his attention to his protégé.

"Madame Umbridge has managed to convince Savage to pull MacMillan off the Tangents case. What's worse is that she has had him replaced with Williamson and added Draco Malfoy as her personal marionette on the investigative team. Surely there's something we can do to stop this."

"Damn that woman!" The Minister said, pounding his fist on his desk. "I warned Robards not to let her interfere with the auror investigation. I guess he didn't get the word to Savage."

"Or maybe Savage didn't listen. I never thought he was fully on board with your changes."

"Maybe not, but he's a good leader and a good auror. I'm not sure there's anyone else ready for the job. Unfortunately, he's something of a political weasel." Shacklebolt ran a hand over his shaved head. "And I can't afford to override him without a very good reason. It would undermine him in front of his men, and put me in direct conflict with the Head of the DMLE. Robards would back me, but it would cost political capital; capital that I need to conserve for other battles."

"So she's going to get her way in this?" demanded Hermione angrily.

"Look at it this way, you're still on the case. As is Lombardi. It'll be up to the two of you to make sure this investigation doesn't turn into a circus."

"With Harry involved how can it be anything but a circus?" Hermione bemoaned. "I mean I'm happy that he's back, but with him in the middle of all this the media is going to go crazy. And with Umbridge's cozy relationship with the Prophet, they're going to tell the story her way. And that's never good for us or for Harry. It's times like these that I really wish I still had blackmail on Rita."

"No such luck. She registered her form years ago and paid her fine."

"All that means is that we've had to put up anti-animagus charms to keep her out of the Ministry in her bug form. She still uses it to snoop in other places, and it isn't even illegal." Hermione once again thought that even with the work done by Minister Shacklebolt and his team in the last seven years the wizarding world was woefully behind the mundane world in terms of laws, protections, and freedoms. This was one of the main reasons she was so worried about Umbridge taking over the Ministry. The woman was xenophobic to the extreme. She would tear down all the progress they had made in non-human rights and relations with the mundane government. Politically, she was just as bad as Lord Voldemort. In many ways, Hermione felt, Umbridge was her antithesis. "There has to be a way to counter her political influence in this."

"There might be one way," the Minister said thoughtfully. "Harry Potter is one of the largest media draws there is. If we could get him on our side somehow that might go a long way towards countering Umbridge's influence."

"I don't know, Minister," Hermione mused. "Harry's always hated publicity _and_ politics. It's quite likely he'd turn us down if we ask him, and he might disappear again."

"You know him best. But if there comes a time you think there's a good chance that he might be willing, do what you can to bring him on our side."

"I'll try, Minister," Hermione agreed reluctantly.

# # # # #

Draco sat in his office, brooding. _Why the hell had Potter returned? Things have been going so well._ Since the end of the war, Draco had been building a good life for himself, and had been restoring the Malfoy family reputation. The first few years had been rough. There was no denying that his father had been a death eater. It was only his own and his mother's actions in the last months of war that had kept the whole family out of Azkaban. Despite this, they had effectively become pariah. Many of their old connections were either dead or in jail. Those that were not did not want to know them. They lost more than half their wealth paying fines and penalties. That was not enough to truly impoverished them, but Draco thought it politic to find work in the Ministry to show that he was part of the solution, not part of the problem. Luckily Shacklebolt had had to preserve many of the tainted Ministry workers in their positions. If he had fired everyone that had cooperated with the Thickness Ministry, there would be no one left to run most of the departments. This spirit of forgiveness stretched to people like Draco. While he had the necessary examination results, the young wizard had no desire to be an auror. Instead he found a place on the Accidental Magic Reversal Squad.

Two years later he helped Umbridge worm her way into the leadership of his department. Shortly after Lucius' death, choking on a fish bone of all things, Draco had made a deal with Umbridge. She would use her influence in the Wizengamot to return the Malfoy seat held in abeyance after a writ of attainder had removed the right to hold hereditary seats from all marked death eaters. He would then use his seat to push for her advancement in the Ministry. "It's a waste to have someone with so much ministry experience and leadership skills languishing in the Centaur Office," Draco had argued in his maiden speech. Since then, he had often lent his support to legislation that Umbridge was pushing.

It was not a particularly comfortable partnership, but Draco felt he was getting enough out of it to continue dealing with the wretched woman. Using all the guile he had been forced to learn after leaving Hogwarts, he had convinced the older witch that he was fond of her and supported her because he believed in her ideals. In reality, he found her personally loathsome and politically naïve; her fixation on non-humans a waste of political capital. As any good Slytherin, he had his own ambitions. But he was, as yet, too young to push for higher office himself. He thought she had, given the political zeitgeist, a fair chance of becoming Minister in the next two years. If she did, he would ride her coattails to a directorship or better. And if she crashed and burned, as he rather suspected she would, he was prepared to disassociate himself from her at the first sign of trouble.

"Draco, do you have a minute?" Ginny stuck her head in his door. He nodded absently. She entered and he pressed a rune that actived the privacy charms he had permanently enchanted around his office.

"Great news. Williamson wants me to be his field lead in the Munch murder investigation. That's what we are supposed to call it, I've been informed. Williamson says to treat Pitney as the prime suspect, and not to refer to him as a victim. So a single murder and a self-defense slaying of a dangerous vampire. Sounds like a load of bollocks to me, but I'm not the lead on this."

"So we'll be working together?"

"That's right. Just like old times." Her smile was beguiling, a blend of sexual teasing and child-like taunting.

She looked good, he thought. But she always had. His personal life had also flourished in the last few years, he reminisced. He had not dated during the years in the proverbial wilderness. And when he started to socialize again, he could not bring himself to make a match with any of the young women that had shunned him. Instead he had found himself fascinated by a fiery young redheaded auror who he worked with on several cases. He knew better than to mention any interest in Ginevra Weasley to his father, who still spent most of his voluminous free time bitterly complaining about the people whom he felt were most responsible for his degradation. Unsurprisingly the older Malfoy never included himself, or even the Dark Lord, on that list. But the Weasleys, both younger and older generations, played a prominent role. Ginny likewise had to keep the growing relationship secret from her family, knowing how much her brothers, Ron in particular, hated and distrusted anyone named Malfoy. So they met clandestinely, occasionally with his mother's contrivance. Honestly Draco was not sanguine that they would have been able to keep the secret for so long without his mother's help.

After his father's death, Draco proposed to Ginny, in part, to forestall one of their too frequent rows. While he knew he was fond of her, and the sex was volcanic, he also knew that the proposal was based in part on stark, practical considerations. As his mother never hesitated to point out, such an alliance with a notoriously Light family would do much to rehabilitate their own tarnished reputation. The Weasleys were determined against the match, which, ironically only lead Ginny to be more determined to have Draco has her husband. In the end, once an acceptable period of mourning for his unlamented father had passed, they were wed in a small ceremony. Ginny's parents both attended, not being willing to sever all ties to their only daughter. But none of the brothers, save Percy, came. That led to an estrangement that continued to the present. A state which Draco would admit only to himself he found more than satisfactory. He had no desire to socialize with his manifold brothers-in-law.

Ginny slammed her hand down on her husband's desk. "Are you listening to me?"

"I'm sorry, dearest. I've been caught up in thought and did not realize you were speaking." Draco hoped this would not be the start of another argument. Rowing in the office was so uncouth. "What is it you were saying?"

"I said I wondered at Harry being involved in this mess, and all through dating some ugly muggle, if I heard his statement to MacMillan correctly." Ginny was chewing on her lower lip. Draco sighed at the sign of her preoccupation. She had never really gotten over her infatuation with the Boy-Who-Lived. As Potter had been gone for seven years, Draco had never let this bother him. But now that the wizard had returned Draco was concerned about his wife's reaction.

"Is this going to be a problem?" Draco asked. "Potter being back I mean."

"No. Why should it be? You don't think I still have a thing for Harry, do you?"

"I don't know. Should I? You did date during sixth year."

"I was 15. Are you saying I haven't changed since I was 15? You have. You're not nearly the same arrogant prat that you were then. At least not usually. I haven't seen Harry for seven years. I have no idea who he is and I don't have the school girl crush anymore. I'm married and I love my husband. Got it?"

Draco stood and drew his wife into his arms. "I'm sorry, my love. I guess I'm just jealous. I can't stand the thought of ever losing you."

"You're not going to lose me. Just don't be a prat."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Harry let himself into Elspeth's flat. He did not have a key, but his wand worked just as well. They did not have a date that evening so he was a little surprised when she did not answer his knock. It was late, but not so late she might not still be out with friends. He was dreading telling her about Elliot, but wanted her to hear it from him rather than the news. He also had to make sure she was prepared for her questioning the next evening. He was concerned that this investigation might draw her more deeply into the magical world. While she had been floating in the fringe for some time, she did not really know anything and Harry preferred to keep it that way. He got himself a drink from her kitchen and sat in a chair facing the front door. He made sure he was lit, and turned some music on to play quietly in the background. He was not trying to surprise her.

As he waited his mind wandered backwards in time, reviewing his relationship with the passionate young woman. Harry had known they were fun together, but he did not love her, nor she him. It was pleasant, but doomed to end in either a fiery explosion over some unimportant disagreement or a quiet exsanguination as one or the other found their interest drawn by some other person or job. Still he was fond of her, and wanted to protect her from the coming storm. He wondered if distancing himself from her, keeping her out of his world and the attention that was bound to fall on him now that the Ministry and his old friends knew he was back, was the best way to protect her.

His thoughts drifted further back in time. This was not the first police investigation he had been involved in since he originally left Britain. In the summer of 2000 he had been in New York City working on a police show, when one of the extras pulled a real gun and opened fire on the cast and crew. Harry had been hit in the leg, but still managed to get his wand into play when no one was looking. He summoned the gunman's shoe as he was running towards the set. The spell is an invisible one so no one saw anything other than the man tripping. The man fell and smashed his head against a fire hydrant, knocking him out. It turned out the he was a stalker of the female lead's and had gone crazy after she had taken a restraining order out against him. Harry was treated, questioned, and released. No one suspected a thing.

The incident caused the young wizard to realize the normal world was potentially as dangerous as the magical one. So he started practicing his old defense skills and added both physical workouts and martial arts training. He even got some shooting lessons from some stuntmen friends in California. While he felt he was out of the hero business, he still could not imagine letting people be hurt if he could stop it. He concentrated his training on the combat spells he thought would be the most use in the mundane world; _stupefy, expelliarmus, accio, depulso,_ and _protego_. While he was not as diligent in his studies as he had been during the war, he could cast them all silently and actually improved his casting speed and accuracy over his achievements at the end of the war. He practiced the same five spells until they were second nature. He even managed the summoning charm wandlessly, though it took a lot more magical power than casting with the wand.

He noticed over time that he had the power to spare. Even after three hours of constant casting he found he was merely fatigued rather than exhausted. He also found his high-powered spells, like _reducto_ and _bombarda_ , were significantly more destructive than any he had seen at Hogwarts, except possibly when cast by Riddle or Dumbledore. Even his levitation spell could lift far more than what Flitwick had taught them was the theoretical maximum for the spell. Harry had once used the spell to levitate a loaded truck out of a mire during a shoot in a swamp. He knew he had nothing like the breadth of knowledge that any well-trained wizard had, certainly nothing approaching the spell repertoire that aurors and hitwizards might boast. But he felt that he might well be in the top tier of wizards in terms of speed and raw power.

"James?" Elspeth's voice brought Harry out of his reverie. She was dressed for clubbing, tight black and purple clothes accenting her died hair and stark makeup. She smelled of smoke, which was unusual as she did not smoke, nor did most clubs allow smoking indoors. Briefly Harry wondered who she had been with. She was standing alone in the doorway looking at him with some surprise.

"Elspeth, I'm sorry that I have some bad news. Please come in and sit down."

"How the hell did you get in my flat? I thought I locked the door."

"Please. This is important." She looked at him as she closed the door behind her, making sure to lock it. She dropped her hung her coat and bag on a set of hooks on the wall. Harry gestured her to the sofa. Once she was settled he sat next to her and took her hand. "I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this. Last night Elliot was killed."

"What! No!"

"He and a guy named Eric Munch were both killed at Tangents sometime after midnight."

"Who? How?"

"No one is sure, and a special branch of the police are investigating. They have already questioned me and they want to talk with you tomorrow evening."

"Why? We weren't even in town last night. Why'd they want to talk to us?"

"In part because of the incident Thursday night and in part because we knew the people involved. They're looking for possible leads on who did it or why it might've been done."

"But I barely know Munch. He was an asshole, but … Christ. They were murdered?"

"It looks that way."

"Can you stay? I think I need you tonight."

So Harry stayed.

# # # # #

Rosamund Lombardi was an old vampire. She had been undead for almost 1500 years. One of the many things this meant was that she was not as tied to the day/night cycle as most of the Leode, as vampire referred to their race. This is not to say that she could abide the light of the sun. That would burn her as quickly as the newest childe. But while youngbloods were dormant from sunrise to sunset, elders had almost complete awareness and freedom of movement during the day, as long as they stayed out of the light. Given that Rosamund had lived in London for centuries, she knew all of the underground passages and pathways that gave her access to most of the city even during the noonday sun. She used these unseen corridors to make her way to the dwelling of Miss Regina White.

Gina was not home. The flat was a disaster, with dirty clothes and rubbish strewn everywhere. There was a kitchen (less said about that the better), a w/c with a shower, a bedroom, and a sitting room that doubled as an office with a high-end computer set up and several filing cabinets. There was also a scrying pool and several arithmancy charts on the desk. It seemed that Miss White had used her divination abilities to make money as a day trader. This was not an uncommon way for witches and wizards outside the wizarding world to make a living. As long as they were not too obvious in their successes, no one cared. La Donna was not sure that the Ministry even knew it happened, as day trading was an information age occupation and the wizarding world was barely out of the steam age.

While there was no Gina, and no obvious signs of a struggle, Rosamund could smell the young witch everywhere in the flat, as well as the faint scent of a vampire and the fresh tang of blood spilt in the sitting room. The vampire trace was too faint for her to identify the individual, but the fact that the trace was so faint led her to believe that it was either an older vampire or one with the power to hide itself. Each of the Leode had different abilities, some of which were common in bloodlines while others varied greatly from individual to individual. The only powers common to all of the Leode were non-aging unlife, increased strength and speed, keen senses, invulnerability to most forms of damage, and mesmerization. The ability to hide, either through invisibility, shadow manipulation, shapeshifting, or other means was not uncommon and helped many of the predatory race hunt more successfully. Spell casting was found in approximately ten present of the Leode, as more magicals survived the Change than non-magicals. One of Rosamund's powers was particularly keen senses, including several not present in humans.

She closed her eyes and opened her other senses. After several minutes of careful consideration her subconscious built a mental picture of a wizard vampire coming in to the flat and confronting the witch. Mesmer was used. Blood was spilt. The witch died. Magic was cast and the vampire apperated away. She could not tell what magic was used or what happened to the witch's body. She knew there were any number of ways a wizard could dispose of a body. From what she could tell the events had happened before the murders at the club. This was definitely the work of one of her kind. And not Pitney, as he had no magic. As much as she hated the Ministry to be right, it looked like they had a rogue vampire in town.

"Damn…" She steeled herself and started going through the papers in the office to see what Miss White had been up to that might have attracted the attention of a killer.

# # # # #

Harry led Elspeth to the assigned meeting room at Tangents at 8pm that evening. Their dress was significantly more subdued that they would normally wear to the club, with none of the extra ironmongery or outlandish makeup that was the norm. Instead Harry was wearing a black suit with a white shirt and no tie. Elspeth was wearing black tights and a black jumper. The young wizard was surprised to see the club was nearly full. There was a line outside and several photographers and videographers trying to get shots of the patrons. It looked like this was a media sensation outside the wizarding world as well. He had seen the Daily Prophet with his picture on the front page. _Nice to see they are as objective and unbiased as ever,_ he thought. He was unsurprised to see Rita's by-line. As Harry entered the club he noticed that people started to stare at him. Some even pointed or waved. He recognized a few from Hogwarts. Apparently the Article in the Prophet had given many wizards and witches the idea of where he might be found. He hoped they realized that this was not a magical venue and that many of the patrons were unaware of the Secret. Otherwise, the obliviators would be busy, which Harry did not think was good for the people bewitched.

When Harry got to room seven in the Catacombs, he was surprised to see it set up like a traditional waiting room, brightly lit with the work lights on and at least a dozen seats set in rows. There was also a small podium at the front of the room. There were several people already waiting in the seats. Harry recognized Hastur, Rachel Sedgwick, and Mr. Guppy. There were several others who Harry assumed were witnesses to the altercation or had other information on the victims. He could sense that they were not all human. After a few minutes a man dressed in a business suit came into the room, looked around and approached.

"Sir Harry, may I speak with you for a moment?" the man asked. He was a medium-sized man in his mid-to-late forties. He had a trim build, short hair, and erect posture that Harry associated with the current or former military men that worked as advisors on some of his films. The young wizard winced as Elspeth and others reacted to the use of his formal title. Deciding discretion was the better part of valor, he nodded

"I'll be aback as soon as I can."

"SIR Harry?" Elspeth growled. The young wizard could not recall ever hearing quite that tone in her voice. He was not looking forward to finding out what it might portend.

"We'll talk about that later," he said with a smile he hoped was ingratiating, or at least mollifying, and followed the older man out of the room. They went into another, smaller room that had a short table with chairs on both sides. Harry assumed it would be used for at least some of the interviews later. The older man gestured for Harry to take a seat.

"My name is Christian Dane. I am the chief of X Office for MI5. We are the agency that investigates the magical world."

"Given my knighthood, I knew the Prime Minster and the Queen knew about the magical world, but I wasn't aware the secret was that well known."

"There have always been a connection at the highest levels, but when the Thickness Ministry cut off that connection the PM decided we needed more. He started X Office back in '97. I was appointed chief as I was already aware of the secret. My sister was a witch. She was killed in the first Voldemort War."

"I'm sorry." Harry always felt responsible for such deaths, even though he knew he was not. "How can I help you?"

"As this's a case that involves both wizards and vampires the investigation is required to be joint between the Ministry and the Council. Given that the crime took place in a mundane establishment and there're numerous non-magicals involved as witnesses Her Majesty's government wants a seat at the table. That's where X Office comes in. But the Ministry and the Council consider us outsiders and are likely to obstruct us at best and magic us into submission at worst." Harry just nodded. He knew the contempt that most magicals held for non-magicals. He could believe what Dane was saying. "We'd like to ask you to be our stand-in."

"You're asking me to work for MI5?"

"Not exactly. More like acting as a consultant for this case only."

"Why?"

"You have credibility in the magical world and connections to the vampires through your involvement with this club. And you voluntarily removed yourself from the magical world and have lived in the real world for several years. The PM thinks you might have the political cache to be acceptable to all sides while having the integrity to do what's right. You are unlikely to be easily intimidated by the Council and the Ministry has nothing to hold over you."

"You make it sounds so enticing."

Dane frowned. "I never said it would be easy or fun, just necessary to avoid a clash of magical races that might spill over into the real world costing untold lives and possibly destroying the veil of secrecy that has preserved the separation of our worlds."

"Careful which world you assign me to. I don't consider myself a wizard as such anymore."

"Exactly. That is why we are asking you to take this on."

"But I'm not a cop. I don't know the first thing about investigating a crime."

"We're not expecting you to be a cop. We are asking you to try to keep the two investigating sides honest, to keep us apprised of anything that might impact the real world, and to try to keep them from starting another war."

"Why are you so worried about this? Both Lombardi and MacMillan seemed pretty honest and straightforward."

"Macmillan's off the case. The Ministry's assigned Williamson, the original Auror on scene, and Draco Malfoy as co-principals for the investigation. Do you think they're honest and straightforward?"

"Bugger me…"

"Exactly. Will you help us, Sir Harry?"

"Only if you stop calling me that," Harry muttered.

"Remember what I said about credibility. Knight Commander of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath holds more credibility at the Home Office than James Potts, 25 year old prop master. We need you to have cache on our side of the Veil as well."

Harry thought for several minutes. Dane said nothing to disturb him. He hated his mundane honours. The Queen had declared the Voldemort Wars real wars and had granted Harry the honorary rank of Colonel for his years of combat and his eventual leadership positon in Dumbledore's Army and the final battle. That is how she justified elevating him to Knight Commander. But he also realized that Dane was right that it would give him credibility in the non-magical government. He was also right about this investigation being a tipping point in the stability of the Ministry of Magic. He had been reading the Prophet and the Quibbler for a few weeks, since realizing that working at Tangents would eventually draw him back into the magical world. He saw evidence of Umbridge's rise and her challenge to Shacklebolt. He knew from personal experience that having that bitch in the Minister's chair would be almost as bad as having Voldemort there. And she was already using this incident to rouse the wizarding world against the vampires and other "dark creatures". Knowing nothing about them, the young wizards still assumed the Council would not take that lying down. A lot of people could get hurt and the Fringe would be caught in the middle. Especially if MI5 and the mundane government got involved. If he could prevent another war he had to try.

"Fine. But I want a badge or something, maybe a special communicator…"

"A decoder ring?"

"You still use those?"

"No. I'll give you my card. That should be all you need. It has my personal mobile number so if you need to talk to me, or have someone else do so, you can. And I would appreciate your avoiding any 009 ¾ jokes. They just aren't funny."

Harry grimaced, sighed, took the offered card, and offered his hand in return. Dane took it and the two men stood. "Thank you. I want to introduce you as our representative to the rest of the team."

Inside another of the Catacombs rooms was a makeshift conference table and ten chairs. Seated at the table were Williamson, Draco, Ginny, Hermione, Lombardi, and two men Harry had not seen before. They all looked up as Harry and Dane entered. Draco stood. "Are you the muggle I was told would be joining this already over crowed party? Not sure why you're here, but Fawley here," he gestured to the unknown man on his side of the table, "says you're welcome. Who am I to argue with the Minister's Special Advisor on Muggle Affairs?"

"I'm Christian Dane from the Home Office. As you may know the Prime Minster and the Minister for Magic agreed that, as there are numerous connections between this case and the "muggle" world, Her Majesty's government would liaise with the investigative team. Sir Harry Potter has agreed to act in that liaison role for Her Majesty's government."

"Potter!" Draco momentarily seemed to lose his cool.

Lombardi gazed at Harry. He piercing grey eyes shone in the flickering gas lights. He felt like she was reading his character, his history, even his soul. He remembered Dane saying something about not being intimidated by the vampires. The young wizard did not know if he was feeling intimidated, but her intense examination was arousing some reaction. Finally she relented. "The Council has no objections and welcomes Sir Harry to the game."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

"I have news that we may want to consider during our interviews this evening," Rosamund said calmly. She was loathe to discuss this, especially with the new Ministry representatives but knew it was relevant to the investigation. "I stopped by the domicile of Miss Regina White and discovered evidence that she too has been murdered."

"What!" cried Hermione. "But … I knew her at Hogwarts."

"I found traces of a vampire visitor that mesmerized her, drained her, and then used magic to do something. Afterwards he apparated away. I was not able to determine the identity of the vampire or the exact time of the occurrence, though it was before midnight on the 23rd. Nor was I able to determine what happened to Miss White's body, though the magic I detected could easily have been from the perpetrator vanishing or transfiguring the corpse."

"This seems to be pointing to Pitney again," Williamson said with a slightly smug tone. The ancient vampire could sense the satisfaction coming off of him. "Auror Malfoy please send an evidence team to Miss White's address." The redhead acknowledged the order and left the room.

"That's both people that Pitney met with on the 20th," the male Malfoy agreed.

"Except that Mr. Pitney was not a wizard. He did not have the ability to cast or apparate," the vampire reminded them. "This was the work of a different vampire."

"Who?" Williamson demanded petulantly.

"Shouldn't we be gathering more evidence before proposing likely suspects?" Sir Harry interrupted. Rosamund nodded while Williamson looked put out and Malfoy sneered dismissively.

"We do have a number of people to talk to this evening," Rosamund offered. "Perhaps we should get started with that."

"And on that note, I don't think my presence is required anymore," Dane interrupted. He stood and gestured to the Minister's Special Advisor. "Bertram, perhaps we could talk for a moment on the way out?"

"Very well," Fawley replied. The two men left.

"I think we should question each person separately," Mr. Malfoy suggested. "That is I think we should separate into two groups and each group question each witness.

"Good idea," offered Williamson. "The redundancy will help to expose any inconsistencies in their testimony." Rosamund was amused by the auror's apparently unconscious assumptions of everyone's bad intentions.

"How would you suggest splitting up?" Sir Harry asked.

"I would suggest that Auror Williamson and I make up one group, with Mrs. Weasley and Madam Lombardi making up the other. Our assistants can manage the witnesses and as you are liaison with both the Ministry and the Council you might flutter between the two." Malfoy's tone was reasonable. Everyone at the table thought for a moment then nodded their agreement.

"Great. While you set that up, I need to take a quick break. I'll be back momentarily." Sir Harry said.

Rosamund could sense he was concerned about something but doubted it was this current discussion. She was intrigued by the young wizard. _He is handsome enough,_ she supposed. _But that is not enough to explain why I am drawn to him whenever he is present._ She knew he was famous, within their world, and relatively wealthy. But fame and fortune were of no particular interest to her. She had long familiarity with both. She had been a queen more than once and had not be poor in many centuries. His tragic history appealed to her sense of the dramatic. But that did not explain the visceral tug she felt when near him _. Maybe it is his magic?_ She thought. She could feel the unplumbed depth of his power, unlike any she had felt before. In that he was unique. And unique was always intriguing.

# # # # #

Harry went back into the large makeshift waiting room. He saw that it was almost full, with more than a dozen people waiting to be questioned. There was Chambers, now dressed in a 1940s style tweed suit, working with Ginny to organize the people. She looked at him as he entered the room. He nodded and turned to find Elspeth. She was seated alone, obviously stewing. Harry saw one of her friends approach, then turn away when she saw the makeup artist's mood.

"Elspeth," Harry said quietly when he was near her. She jerked around to glare at him.

"What? Time for me SIR Harry?" Elspeth made no attempt to keep her voice low.

"Can I talk with you privately please?" Harry offered her his hand. She ignored it but did follow him out of the room. Chambers seemed ready to object but Ginny pulled him aside. Harry led Elspeth into a small room. There was a faux hackney coach with windows looking out onto a moving street scene of Victorian London projected onto the walls. The space was usually used for couples wanting an unusual, but discrete, place for romantic assignations. The quieted audio of horses' hooves clopping on cobbles played in the background. Harry offered his assistance getting into the coach, but the young woman spurned him and leaned against the room's image covered wall, arms crossed defensively.

"So …" Harry started. "Some years back, while I was still in school, I got involved in a fight with some terrorists. The leader of this terror group had killed my parents when I was a baby and wanted to complete the set. He came after me several times. The government wasn't very helpful in protecting me and my friends. I had to learn to fight pretty much on my own. In the end it came down to a big fight. I won, but several of my friends and all my remaining family were killed. The government decided to give me a knighthood for stopping the terrorist. It's no big deal. I think it was mostly guilt on their part for making a kid do their dirty work. That's why that guy called me Sir Harry."

"A fucking knight!"

"Yeah. And …"

"And?"

"And the guy asked me to be a part of this criminal investigation. Something to do with several of the investigators being old school mates or other people I knew back then. They now work for different parts of the government and due to internal politics they don't get along. The guy, Christian Dane," Harry handed her Dane's card. It said he was a Section Chief for the UK Security Service. "He asked me to work as a sort of peacekeeper or childminder really, to try to help them all work better together."

Elspeth was staring at the card. "M-sodding-I-bloody-5!" she said and flung the card at him. "I _really_ don't know who the hell you are, do I?"

"You know who I am now. My past _is_ past. I thought I'd left it behind. Coming to this bloody club has opened it all back up again." Harry felt his anger slipping the hold he constantly kept on it and took a deep breath. "Coming back to this country… It was probably inevitable. But you do know …"

"No I don't. I may know the part you want to play, but it's pretty damned obvious that as soon as the shit hits the fan the real you comes out. And I don't know if I want to know the real you. You're like my father. I am so tired of the fucking CPS and QCs and OBEs and KCBs and all. That. SHIT!" She pushed away from Harry and stormed out of the room. Harry heard Ginny directing her back into the waiting room. Elspeth cursed but complied.

After a moment the red-headed auror came into the coach room. She looked in wonder at the electronic images for short moment. Then she said, "There's no way you can make a relationship with a muggle work long term unless you're completely honest. Really any relationship requires complete honesty, but bringing muggles into our world is really hard. Seamus had some pretty awful stories about his mum and dad."

"Apparently I remind her of her father. That's pretty much the death stroke for any romance right there."

"So …?"

"So we'll have to wait and see. But damned if I didn't know coming back was going to be a mistake."

"I hope you'll forgive us if your abandoned friends don't agree."

Harry could tell her ire was rising too. _Great, pissed off two 'former?' girlfriends in as many minutes. Must be a record._

"Sorry." He could not quite say for what. She shrugged and nodded her head towards the door. "Right. Time to get to work."

As Lombardi had suggested, the investigators split into two groups, each set up in a small interview room. _Frome must be unhappy that the Catacombs are basically shutdown for the night,_ Harry thought. Harry moved between the rooms. He tried to stick with Malfoy and Williamson when they were interviewing non-magicals. He did not trust Umbridge's lackeys with people they so looked down upon. Most of the interviews were uneventful, but a few seemed to stand out.

Rachel Sedgewick nodded to Harry when she entered the interview room. She was obviously very distraught. Williamson offered her a cup of tea, laced with a muggle-safe calming draught. Draco motioned for her to sit in the witness chair. The chair had been charmed with a specific compulsion that caused people to be more cooperative and truthful. It was not as good as Veritaserum, but that was restricted and could be toxic to people without magic.

"Miss Sedgewick, can you please tell me how long you've known Mr. Pitney?" Williamson asked.

"I met Elliott April of last year, so about eighteen months." The potion and charms seemed to be working as she sounded numb.

"How did you meet?"

"We met at an art show. When he heard I work at a blood donation center, he became interested in me and we started dating. I found out he was a vampire after our third date."

"Did you supply him blood from the center?" Harry asked. He was not sure if the Ministry wizards even knew what one was. He had not seen anything like them in the magical world.

"Not usually. Sometimes he would try some for variety. He was a bit of a man-whore. I know he went to others on occasion for both blood and sex, bastard." Her anger was overcoming the calming draught. "He was always looking. I don't know why I wasn't enough for him. He was my everything." Her tears flowed freely. Harry offered her a handkerchief. Draco cast a surreptitious cheering charm.

"Why was Mr. Pitney meeting with Mr. Munch and Miss White?" Williamson continued.

"He said it was business, but I figured he was sipping from Miss Perky Veins, maybe even from ButtMuncher too. Elliott had eclectic tastes. And a huge foot fetish. God I miss him!" The tears started again. Then she growled, "That Gina, I hate her. She tried to take my bloodmuffin. I'm going to tear her head off and spit down her neck! I'm all alone …"

Things went downhill from there. Apparently Miss Sedgewick had a strange reaction to calming potions.

Meredith Farnsworth, the young witch whom Harry had seen drumming on the bar his first night at Tangents was apperently a fairly close friend of Gina's. Harry sat in on Lombardi and Hermione's session with her. "Tell me again what you saw," Hermione urged.

"It was that nebbish Munch. He was at the Ministry." Farnsworth repeated.

"He does work there." Hermione pointed out a bit pedantically.

"Yeah, I know. At the security desk. 'Check yer wand please…' But that's not where I saw him. He was getting off the elevator at the third level. That's _not_ where he works now is it?"

"No, but he might have had any number of reasons to be there."

"You mean like talking with Umbridge? She's taken over the whole level. Nothing there now but her people. That evil toad locked me an' my friends up in a bloody concentration camp. For almost a year. I don't want anythin' to do with anyone that has anythin' to do with her."

"And you told Miss White this?" asked Lombardi. Harry saw the older woman waved a subtle gesture to Hermione. He was not sure the meaning, but his friend sat back and folded her arms over her chest in a familiar posture of frustration.

"I did. She wasn't best pleased about it either."

"And when was this?" Lombardi asked.

"I was in the Ministry on Friday. I don't go there much but I had to renew my apparition license. Whose brilliant idea was it to charge for annual renewals anyway? I'd like to show them what I think about it." Harry noticed Hermione blushing. He wondered if it had been her idea.

"And when did you tell Miss White?"

"I told her Saturday night when I saw her here. I haven't spoken to her since then."

"Thank you for answering our questions." Lombardi noted something on her pad.

Later that evening Harry was sitting with the two ladies when Lombardi's assistant Crole brought in Torrance, the vampire Harry had scuffled with on Thursday. He was not a happy vamp. "What are you doing, Lombardi, parading me in front of these cattle? Have you no pride in your blood? We don't answer to these sorts."

"Maybe, maybe not," the older woman replied. "But we do answer to the Elders. And the Council has agreed to this investigation."

"Playing to the wizards. Why? We shouldn't be cooperating. We should be ruling!" Harry saw Torrance's face betray his bestial nature. His fangs stuck up from his protruding jaw and spittle flew with almost every word. Lombardi slapped the table top, the sound like a gunshot in the closed room.

"Why did you try to take Elliott's Vessel Thursday?" Her voice was icy calm but Harry could feel the emotion in her held under tight control.

"Elliott was a fool. He was a Joiner, plotting with other Joiners. I wanted him to see what the proper place for cattle was. Not at our sides, but at our feet."

"What's a joiner?" Hermione asked.

"Shut it, witch. Unless you want to play my game." Hermione leaned back and reached for her wand.

"You really are a charmer aren't you?" Harry asked. He knew Hermione was able to take care of herself, but he could not stand to see anyone threaten her. "So you were trying to rile Elliott because you didn't like his friends?"

"Not friends, politics." Lombardi answered. "Joiners are more formally known as Integrationists, a group or alliance of groups that wants to tear down the Veil of Secrecy and integrate the magical and mundane worlds. Torrance, are you saying that Elliott was an Integrationist?"

"The weakling wanted to see the lion lay down with the sheep, the predator with the prey. He was a fool and I'm glad he's gone," the bestial man snarled.

"Biblical references from a …" Hermione trailed off when she felt Lombardi's eyes on her. "… a person like you. On a different track, are you a wizard, Mr. Torrance? Can you cast magic? Use a wand?"

Torrance leaned back and smirked. "I don't need your sort of magic. The Leode have our own powers."

"And some of the … Leode … have the ability to use wanded magic. Do _you_ have that ability?"

"No, he does not." Lombardi answered. "His abilities are rather more limited."

"I've got nothing more to say to the likes of you." Torrance snarled then sat back and sulked. They got no more out of him that night.

Draco and Williamson also had some interesting conversations with vampires. The first was with Goran Osmani, the older vampire that seemed to be Torrance's leader. He was smiling and relaxed when seated before the two ministry wizards. Harry stood in the back corner of the room. There was something about the squat, short-haired man that reminded Harry of the bulldogs that Aunt Marge used to breed. Ferocious violence barely kept on a leash seemed to radiate from the vampire. Intimidation was a subtle effect vampires could achieve using their mezmerization power. Harry marshaled his occlumency and pushed back against the mental manipulation. The older man smiled at the wizard's success, showing several pointed teeth.

"Mr. Osmani, are you a wizard?" Draco asked somewhat nervously.

"I am. Durmstrang, class of 1559. Why?" the older man answered.

"Where were you the night of October 23rd?" Williamson asked. They seemed to be using a machinegun, back and forth interrogation style. Harry did not think it would rattle the 450 year old vampire.

"I was here for most of the night. I got in around 10-10:30 and left sometime around 3am."

"Did anyone see you here?"

"It's a nightclub. I imagine dozens of people saw me. I wasn't hiding. I even danced with a few pretty ladies during the evening. I cannot recall their names. But one had a lovely tattoo on the back of her neck, a dragon, with wings spread across her pale shoulders. I'm sure I would be able to recognize her if I saw her again."

"When was the last time you saw Elliott Pitney alive?"

"I don't think I ever saw him alive." Osmani smiled.

"Very well. Did you see Mr. Pitney on the night of the 23rd?"

"I did."

"What about Mr. Munch?"

"I did."

"When?"

"Sometime during the night. I wasn't checking my watch."

"You're not being very helpful, Mr. Omani," Williamson finally said.

"You're not asking very good questions, Mr. Williamson," Omani replied. Harry had to stifle a laugh. It did not get any better as they continued to ask questions. It did turn out that several ladies remembered dancing with him throughout the night.

The last vampire questioned was one Harry had not seen before, Dani Hudson. She had also been in the club the night of the murders. She had even been seen dancing with Omani. She was a very attractive woman of medium height and raven black hair cut short. She was dressed like many of the other young women in the club, if in a somewhat more revealing fashion. Harry thought of a hunter setting bait for her prey.

"Are you a witch?" Williamson asked. He seemed flustered by the young woman. It reminded Harry of the reaction many of his classmates had to Fleur during the Tournament. _Attraction instead of intimidation,_ Harry thought. Occlumency was equally effective.

"I am."

"How long have you been a vampire?" Draco asked.

"More than 200 years? Why?"

"Please tell us when you last saw Mr. Munch." Williamson pushed on without answering.

"Munch? I saw him here Sunday."

"Did you talk to him?" Draco continued.

"Why would I talk to him? He was a SEED plant, one of yours Mr. Malfoy, was he not? I've no desire to associate with such trash." Draco's face went blanker than normal. Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. Munch was directly working for Draco? And he did not feel that was worth sharing with the team.

"What about Pitney? Did you speak with him Sunday?"

"Elliott was never really my type. I didn't associate with him either." She seemed to be enjoying teasing the ministry wizards. Occasionally she would look over at Harry and smile a Mona Lisa smile, hinting that she knew much more than she was saying. Harry pretended to be Clint Eastwood and simply stared, with a slight disdainful crook to his lips. Not a full sneer, but the hint that she was not worth offering the full expression.

The final interview was one that Harry had been dreading – Elspeth. He made sure he was in the room with Draco and Williamson when she was brought in. She took one look at him and complained loudly. "I don't want him in here." She pointed to Harry. "I refuse to talk as long as he is."

"I thought you had a personal relationship with Mr. Potter." Draco said. He was smirking at his Gryffindor rival.

"I had a relationship with James Potts, a film technician. I don't even know who that man is, and I don't want to. You may not know it but my father, Sir Harold Towson, fucking KCB, sodding QC, is a Crown Prosecutor. He specializes in terrorist cases. He probably worked on the case that got Sir Harry his fucking knighthood. I hate my father. I hate fucking coppers. And now I hate him." She pointed at Harry. "So he goes or I do, and you can all fuck right off."

"Sir Harry," Williamson gestured to the door. Harry left without a word.


End file.
